


Tonight, This Is Our World

by J (j_writes)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Additional Secondary Pairings Mentioned in Notes, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, Ficlet Collection, GTA AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:16:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 34,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michael got home that night, he closed the door behind him and tacked the card up to the back of it, alongside all the others.  Beaches, mountains, lit up cityscapes.  Los Santos, San Andreas.  <i>Wish you were here.</i>  "Yeah," he said aloud.  "Me too, man.  Me too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lasting impression

**Author's Note:**

> [fictional characters based on the internet personas of actual people, doing entirely fictional things. I do not give permission for this work or any of my others to be used in Rooster Teeth content.]
> 
> Disconnected moments from the lives of the Fake AH Crew, originally posted on Tumblr - presented here in more or less chronological order for the progression of the relationship (fair warning that POV and timing of details may be inconsistent, due to being written at different times). 
> 
> Titled chapters prompted by [25 Days of Ficlets](http://thebeatneverleaves.tumblr.com/post/108016978050/25-days-of-ficlets), untitled chapters written for various Tumblr prompts, or just because. Set in the [Fake AH Life](http://thebeatneverleaves.tumblr.com/fakeahlife) universe. 
> 
> Additional pairings mentioned but not elaborated on: Gavin Free/Meg Turney, Joel Heyman/Adam Ellis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Gavin

"Point one," Geoff said, "no. Point two, _hell_ no. Point three, go fuck yourself." Burnie sighed on the other end of the phone, and Gavin shifted uncomfortably in the hallway, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Geoff wanted to back into his apartment and just slam the door in the kid's face, but he was standing a little too close, leaning on the doorframe, and Geoff would probably never hear the end of it from Burnie if he busted up his trigger finger or something. "Look," he continued into the phone, "I don't care if this kid is the next fucking Houdini or whatever, okay? He's like _six_ , he shows up on your doorstep from fucking England, and you decide to, what? _Keep_ him? Fine. I mean, I think it's a bad idea, but it's _your_ bad idea, man. You want to keep your little imported twink around to do tricks for you, that's cool, I'm not gonna judge. But I'm not letting him into my place so he can kill me in my sleep or some shit. No way." He eyed Gavin, who was suddenly managing to look like the most nonthreatening person on the planet, young and tired, his frayed sneakers scuffing at the carpet in the hallway. "No offense, buddy," Geoff added to Gavin, who shrugged like he couldn't care less.

"Look," Burnie said. Geoff knew that voice. It was his _I am at the edge of my fucking patience and the next person to cross me is going to feel my goddamn wrath_ voice, and Geoff winced. "I could explain my reasoning to you, I really could, but quite honestly, I don't have the time, because I have a fucking operation to run, here. So how about this? You owe me."

Geoff snorted. "Right, yeah, okay, what could I possibly ever – "

"Vegas," Burnie interrupted him flatly.

Geoff's mouth snapped shut. He looked at Gavin, whose eyes were everywhere but on him, peering around him into his apartment. "Shit," he muttered. "You're calling that in _now_?"

"You bet your ass I am," Burnie said. "Have fun!" he added cheerfully, and the line went dead.

"Well, fuck me," Geoff muttered.

"No thanks," Gavin said, brushing by him into the apartment. "This is mine, then?" he asked, tossing his bag onto the couch.

"Yeah, I mean – " Geoff paused, uncharacteristically flustered, looking around at his living room, which looked basically like a tornado of pizza and whiskey had blown through sometime recently. "Yeah." He made a move toward the coffee table, intending to sweep some of the crap away, but Gavin interrupted him.

"Hey, do you smell something burning?" He crossed toward the kitchen, and his eyes lit up. "Are you making bacon?"

" _Shit_ ," Geoff cursed, pushing past him to grab a fork and scoop the bacon out of the pan. He opened the window over the sink, flapping his hands at it like that was going to do anything to keep the smoke alarm from going off. "Still edible," he said, inspecting the pieces, and winced. "Mostly?" He sighed.

"Sorry," Gavin said, but he looked more hungry than apologetic.

"Yeah, just fucking…sit down, would you?" Geoff shooed him away from the stove. "I've seen you in the field, I don't want you near fire."

Gavin gave him a careless smile, but he settled onto one of the chairs at Geoff's tiny table, tucking his knees up and watching as Geoff dropped twice as many eggs and pieces of bread into the pan and toaster than he'd been planning on. He leaned back against the counter as they cooked, eyeing Gavin, completely at a loss for anything to say, and Gavin fished his phone out of his pocket, ignoring him in favor of checking his messages. He dug in eagerly when Geoff set a plate in front of him, though, making quiet appreciative noises.

"Didn't think you were the type who would cook," he said finally, mopping up some egg with a piece of toast.

"It's bacon and eggs," Geoff pointed out. "Not fucking rocket science."

Gavin lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Used a stove, didn't you? That makes it cooking."

"You should have my brisket, man. _That's_ cooking."

He tossed the dishes into the sink instead of washing them, and crossed to the liquor cabinet. He pulled out a bottle and held it up in Gavin's direction, and after a brief pause, Gavin nodded. Geoff poured them each a healthy glass and crossed to set Gavin's down in front of him on the table.

"I thought Burnie was a real dumbass, you know, taking you on."

"I know," Gavin said. He took a sip and winced.

"What, you're not going to try to defend your honor or anything?" Geoff asked. He headed for the living room, not waiting for Gavin to follow him, and dropped down onto the couch. Gavin hovered in the doorway for a moment or two before joining him. "Tell me all the ways you're going to be worth it?"

"No," Gavin said. "I've proved it well enough, haven't I? Which is what you're going to tell me, I expect."

Geoff laughed. "Nah," he said. "I was going to tell you to watch your left."

"What?"

Geoff shrugged. "You're a two-man operation back home, right? You're used to having someone on your back. That's a good sign, means you know how to trust your team. But you're still new here, and unfortunately – or, you know, maybe fortunately, actually – none of us are actually mind readers." He gestured to Gavin's side. "Just keep an eye on it."

Gavin's expression tightened for a second, like he was going to object and get defensive, but instead he just nodded and muttered, "Thanks."

"No extra charge," Geoff said lightly. He was quiet for a few moments, and Gavin picked at a fraying patch on the arm of the couch. When Geoff looked over at him, he was curled up, drinking slowly, craning his neck to inspect the books Geoff had piled on the shelf next to the couch. "What are you doing here?" he asked finally, the question coming out more genuinely curious than he intended.

Gavin looked over at him. "Burnie said – "

"No, I don't mean _here_ , Gav, I mean – " he gestured at him. "What the hell kind of kid just packs up his whole fucking life to cross half the world and join some small-time crime operation?"

Gavin lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Burnie's a good guy," he said simply.

Geoff laughed. "No, Burnie's a fucking asshole," he corrected.

"Same thing." Gavin gave him a half smile. "I don't know, it's like – I found all that dirt on Burnie, you know, I just came across it while Dan and I were working on a job with those guys, and the more I looked into it, the more I thought that maybe it was those guys who might be fucked up. That they were planning on going after this bloke, all the way over here, who seemed to be doing some actually pretty interesting business. So I dropped him a line, let him know that he might want to expect trouble. That's all."

"That's all," Geoff repeated. "Except that's _not_ all, because you're here, aren't you?"

"Well, Burnie collects people, doesn't he?" Gavin waved a hand, clearly intending to indicate Geoff, as well as Gus, Joel, Hullum, Kathleen, the whole cast of characters that Gavin had been running with since he crossed the ocean, and okay, Geoff wouldn't have chosen that way to describe it, but it was kind of a perfect description of the way Burnie operated.

"So you, what? Just let him collect you?"

Gavin shrugged. "Dan joined the army, and I wasn't about to try to keep our little project going without him." He gave Geoff a cocky smile and knocked back the last of his drink. "I'm good, but I'm not that good. So yeah, Burnie asked, and here I am."

"On my couch," Geoff said dryly. He stood to grab the bottle from the kitchen, and when he returned, Gavin held his glass out for a refill. Geoff just kept the bottle, flopping down and stretching his legs out.

"Well, that sounds like it might be your fault," Gavin pointed out. He eyed Geoff. "What happened in Las Vegas?"

" _Nothing_."

Gavin grinned. "Uh-huh. All right. Well, whatever it is, hope it was worth getting a roommate."

Geoff grumbled quietly, but as the night wore on and they progressed from interrogation to Halo to drunkenly staging a knife-throwing competition in the kitchen, he started to think that Burnie might have been onto something.

Not that Geoff would ever tell _him_ that.


	2. there were signs and signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Gavin

"You're going at this all wrong, you know," Gavin remarked.

He was sprawled out on the floor, Geoff's scribbled plans for their latest job spread out around him, his nose an inch or two from a blueprint of the target building as he inspected it closely.

"It might help if you turned that the right way up," Geoff pointed out dryly, not pausing his game.

"I'm getting a different perspective."

"You're losing it, is what you are."

"No, but look," Gavin insisted, jabbing a finger at the plans. "This says that the back entrance was sealed in the 80s, but everything about the layout of the duct work suggests that it wasn't."

Geoff raised an eyebrow, not looking at him. "What do you know about duct work?"

Gavin gave him a withering look. "I'm not some kind of amateur, you know," he said. He pushed the blueprints towards the couch. "Look, these tunnels were redone in '06, right? So how could they possibly have structured them this way if that section was boarded off? It has to be accessible for maintenance, and if it is, that's our way in."

Geoff finally paused, sighing, and rolled so he was half leaning off the couch, inspecting the plans as Gavin pointed to the relevant pieces. "Wait," he said finally, grabbing the blueprint from Gavin and pulling it up to inspect it more closely. "We had one of our guys pull the permits from the city when we were casing this place. This doesn't make any sense, the way they're worded."

Gavin sighed, tipping his head back against the edge of the couch. "This is what I'm saying."

Geoff eyed him for a moment before nodding and dropping to the floor beside him, spreading the blueprint out in front of both of them. "Okay," he allowed. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Gavin nodded, and reached to turn the page upside down again.


	3. a picture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Gavin - inspired by [this picture](http://thebeatneverleaves.tumblr.com/post/109038061355)

"Pull off here," Gavin said abruptly, his voice scratchy and hoarse, and Geoff startled, narrowly keeping from jerking the wheel as he looked over at him.

"Fuck, kid," he said. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," Gavin replied. He was curled in the passenger seat, hood up over his rumpled hair, looking small and tired, but he gestured off the highway with something like authority. "This exit, Geoff," he insisted.

"Why do you – " Geoff began, but at Gavin's insistent look, he sighed and pulled off. The road was dark and quiet, the businesses along it closed for the night, and Geoff hesitated at the end of the ramp.

"Left," Gavin said, and Geoff followed his direction, rolling down the windows and shutting off the air conditioning, letting the cool night air into the car.

"The fuck are we doing?" he asked finally, a while down the road, and he looked at Gavin out of the corner of his eye. "If your plan is to take me into the middle of nowhere and have me whacked, I've got to tell you, that's not going to work out the way you think it is."

Gavin laughed. He stretched, his joints popping, and the hood slid off his head, leaving his hair sticking up in all directions. "I wouldn't kill you, Geoffrey," he said, and hesitated. "Well, not intentionally, at least. Can't say I might not get you blown up one of these days." He leaned sideways, letting his head hang out the window like a dog, and Geoff breathed out a quiet laugh at him. "No, I've been here before."

"Yeah?" Geoff asked. "Great. Any particular destination in mind, or – "

"There."

Ahead of them, a patch of light appeared, multicolored and inviting, and as they pulled closer, Geoff could see that it was an all-night diner, a few cars in the parking lot. He eyed Gavin. "You brought me all this way off the road for – "

"Waffles," Gavin said with a dreamy sigh. "Burnie brought me here once. I remember it. Their waffles are – " he made an obscene noise.

Geoff rolled his eyes. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked. "We could be going _home_. To _bed_."

"Or," Gavin suggested, "we could be eating waffles!" Geoff reluctantly pulled into the parking lot, and Gavin practically bounded out of the car. Geoff groaned, letting his head drop to the steering wheel, and Gavin circled the car, reaching through his open window to tug at Geoff's hair. "Come on, then," Gavin said. "The sooner we get waffles, the sooner you get me in bed."

Geoff groaned. "I meant for _sleeping_ , Gavin. I'm tired, and I'm disgusting, and – " he broke off as Gavin raked his fingers down to the back of his neck, pressing lightly, and okay, it wasn't that he didn't see the _appeal_ of getting him home and spreading him out on the bed, both of them getting off lazily before they passed the hell out. "Okay," he said, picking up his head and shaking Gavin's fingers off. "Fine. Waffles, then home." He shut off the car and climbed out, sticking a finger in Gavin's face. "They better be damn good fucking waffles."

" _So_ good," Gavin assured him.

The diner was almost empty, and they took a booth by the window, Gavin immediately kicking his legs up onto the seat beside Geoff and nudging him lightly in the side to the rhythm of the music playing. Geoff hummed under his breath as he investigated the menu, and they ordered from a waitress who looked about as tired as Geoff felt. As she walked away, he clapped a hand to Gavin's ankle, holding his foot still, and Gavin squirmed, making a face at him.

"Trust me," he said, "this is a flawless decision."

"A flawless decision," Geoff said. "From _you_. That would be the day."

"Hey, now," Gavin objected. "I make loads of good decisions. You wouldn't have made Burnie give me up if I didn't."

"Please," Geoff said. "He practically _paid_ me to take you."

"Nah," Gavin said confidently. "You guys absolutely fought over me."

Geoff rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna break it to you, Gav," he said. "I didn't hire you for your decision-making skills."

Gavin leered across the table at him. "It's my blowjob skills, isn't it?"

Geoff laughed so loud that one of the guys drinking coffee at the counter turned around to give him a dirty look. "Right, your gagging and retching is super fucking attractive."

Gavin shrugged, unconcerned, and went back to poking at Geoff's side with his toes, but he let his head tilt back against the seat, rolling it to the side to watch the cars go by outside the window. He looked small again, all of a sudden, like he had in the car, and Geoff let his hand stay against Gavin's ankle, just over his sock, tracing light patterns over and over.

"Hey," he said quietly, eventually, and Gavin looked at him out of the corner of his eye without lifting his head. "I'm glad you're with me on this."

Gavin nodded, not replying, but he had a soft tired smile on his face as his eyes flickered back to the road. 

They stayed like that, Geoff thumbing idly though his phone, Gavin half-asleep across from him, until the waitress emerged from the kitchen, carrying two heaping plates. "Waffles," Geoff announced, and Gavin snapped back to life, beaming.

"Waffles!" he said, and as the plates were set down in front of them, he eyed Geoff. "And then home."

"Yeah, buddy," Geoff said. "Then, we're going home."

It struck him then, as he dug into his waffles, that he wasn't sure when he'd started thinking of Los Santos as _home_ , as a place he genuinely wanted to get back to, rather than a mission he wanted to accomplish. But sitting here in a roadside diner in the middle of the night with Gavin reaching across the table to steal a piece of his waffle, he realized that somewhere in between getting set up there, all the jobs they had pulled, and now, it was slowly turning into their city.

He stabbed his fork half-heartedly at Gavin's hand, and Gavin snatched it back, triumphantly stuffing the bite into his mouth. "Thnks fr th wffles," he mumbled, and Geoff laughed, pushing Gavin's feet off the seat next to him.

"Yeah, okay," he allowed, "I guess _all_ your decisions aren't crap."

"Just most of them," Gavin said cheerfully. "But that's why you keep me around, right? Because when they are good, they're solid gold."

Geoff rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he agreed dryly, but it was close enough to true that the next time Gavin went for his plate, Geoff let him get away with another bite of waffle.


	4. something's broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Gavin, mentions of Gavin & Dan

"Gavin?" Geoff tapped lightly on his door, and received an incoherent grumble in reply. "Look, I don't care if you're fucking jerking off in there, okay? I'm giving you thirty seconds, and then I'm – "

The door burst open, Gavin practically wrenching it off its hinges before storming back into the room, his hands already busy stuffing seemingly random articles of clothing into a bag. " _What_ , Geoffrey?" he demanded, already paying Geoff almost no attention. "I'm a bit busy here."

"I see that," Geoff said mildly, leaning against the doorframe. Their new apartment was bigger, cleaner, but he was still practically hovering in Gavin's space, just by stepping into the room. "Going somewhere?" Gavin's eyes met his, and they were frantic in a way that made him suddenly regret trying to brush off whatever was going on. "Hey," he said in a different tone, holding up his hands. "Gav. What – "

"Dan," Gavin said succinctly. "I've got to – " he waved a hand at his room, clothes and tech and weapons scattered all over every available surface. His eyes met Geoff's again, almost helplessly. "I can't stay here."

"Okay," Geoff said, wanting to reach out and put a soothing hand on Gavin's arm, still his movements, pull him into a hug, but Gavin was already out of range by the time the thought even crossed his mind, so Geoff pulled out his phone instead. "Hang on, let me get one of my guys on this. Private will get you there faster than commercial, and you won't have to worry about…well." He looked pointedly at Gavin, who was holding a gun in each of his hands, holding them up, comparing them.

He paused, setting one of them down, and scrutinized Geoff. "You're not going to try to talk me out of it?" he asked carefully.

Geoff shrugged. "Dan's in some kind of trouble?"

Gavin nodded wordlessly.

"And it's the kind you think you can get him out of?" Gavin hesitated, so Geoff added, " _Without_ getting yourself killed?"

"I…I don't know," Gavin admitted. "But I have to try." He looked at Geoff almost wildly, like he thought Geoff was going to try anything to keep him from going. "I _have_ to," he said miserably, and this time, Geoff did cross the room, tucking his phone into his pocket and wrapping his fingers around the gun in Gavin's hand, setting it aside.

"Of course you have to," he said. Gavin practically deflated under his touch, leaning into him, and Geoff wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him in close. "You want backup?" he asked against the side of Gavin's head, and he could feel Gavin tense as he weighed his options carefully before shaking his head.

"Somebody's got to keep this city on its toes, right? What would I come back to, otherwise?"

"What, coming back to _me_ isn't enough?" Geoff asked, his voice deliberately light and teasing, and Gavin snorted.

"Not nearly enough incentive," he said, but his fingers went tight in the back of Geoff's shirt, stretching it out, his nose tucking into the space between Geoff's shoulder and neck like he was wishing he could just stay there and block out the rest of the world.

Geoff's phone buzzed, and he fumbled in his pocket for it, Gavin pulling away like the sound had jolted him back to reality. He kept stuffing things into his suitcase, but his movements were more deliberate now, a little calmer, and when Geoff told him when and where the plane would be waiting for him, his smile was soft and relieved.

"Okay," he said carefully, leaning heavily on the top of the bag, dragging the zipper shut. "Okay, thanks."

"Of course," Geoff said, but the words came out rougher and more hesitant than he wanted them to, and when Gavin looked up at him, he said, "We've still got some time to kill," like an offer.

They didn't fuck. They didn't even kiss, but Gavin let Geoff drag him onto the bed, kicking the suitcase off the end of it, and wrap around him, quietly outlining the scenarios he could be facing when he landed in England, talking through the possible courses of action, until Gavin was quiet and still in his arms, his breath slow and even and not quite asleep.

"You've got this," Geoff said eventually, his breath ruffling Gavin's hair, and Gavin didn't reply, but his fingers tightened against Geoff's skin like a promise, a reassurance.

Geoff drove him to the airfield, and pulled him close beside the car, not caring who was watching, his hands reaching up to curl into the ends of Gavin's hair, tugging on them lightly. "This city's gonna be goddamn unrecognizable when you get back," he told him, and Gavin laughed.

"What, because you'll have run it into the ground?" he guessed.

"No, because I'll fucking own it," Geoff said, all bravado.

Gavin was laughing when he pushed him away. "That will be the day," he said. He let his fingers drag down Geoff's arm, over his tattoos, catching against the newest lines on his hand like he was committing them to memory, and then he was running off toward the plane, all gangly legs and unwieldy bag dragging behind him, not so different at all from the awkward kid he'd been, standing in Geoff's hallway in San Andreas at least a lifetime before.

Geoff raised a hand in a deceptively casual farewell, and he got back in his car, but he didn't pull away until the tail lights had long since faded into the distance.


	5. a meeting, a beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burnie & Michael

"Look, Barb." Burnie sighed into his phone as he waved Sal over. "You can tell Gus I'm no happier about this than he is, okay? These guys are a bunch of knuckleheads, we all know that. But right now, we can't afford to piss them off. Not yet. I've still got debts out here." Sal approached, and Burnie put on a smile. "I gotta go. Don't let my city burn down while I'm gone."

"Don't get dead," Barbara advised cheerfully. He hung up the phone, and greeted Sal with a hearty handshake.

"Good to see you, man," Sal said. "Thanks for this. It's appreciated, you coming all the way out here."

Burnie shrugged. "I owed you a favor. I don't like to owe people things."

The trip to the base of operations Sal had set up was short, and he talked the whole way, filling the silence between them with outlining the plan for the strike ahead. "We're about to blow the wings," he was explaining as he led Burnie into a room full of security monitors showing various angles on a building Burnie had so far only seen in schematics. "Sit back and watch the show."

"That's risky," Burnie said. "From what I've seen of the plans, you don't have much room to play with in there."

"My guys are good," Sal said, and as if to prove his point, the monitors on the left side of the room flared with bright light simultaneously, and Burnie watched the carefully outlined strike zones go up in a burst of flame.

There was a brief pause, into which Burnie allowed, "Your guys are _very_ good."

"Jesus motherfucking _fuck_!" Burnie heard from the next room, and a small tornado of fury burst through the door, headed right for Sal. "'My guys know what they're doing,' you said. 'You take care of the east corridor, and leave the rest to us.' Well, guess what didn't just go off, boss? Guess what I've gotta fucking get in there and fix with my own two hands, and hope that your guys haven't fucked it up so hard that I get them blown right off? Oh, that's right. The west goddamn corridor." He broke off, finally registering that Sal wasn't alone. His eyes darted over to Burnie, and he looked momentarily flustered.

"This your work?" Burnie asked, waving at the screens. The kid looked barely even old enough to drive, his hair wild around his face, a black eye still fading on his temple.

"The part that did what it was supposed to, yeah," he said.

Burnie nodded, impressed, and Sal waved a hand between them. "Burns, Jones." He looked back to Jones expectantly. "Well?" he prompted. "Are you going to fix it, or fucking whine about it?" Jones nodded sharply and disappeared as Sal muttered, "Fucking punk," under his breath.

It wasn't long before Burnie heard his voice over the comm, saying, "Thirty seconds for the west corridor. Get out if you want your dicks intact."

The explosion was quick and controlled, and Burnie listened to the sound of Sal's men moving in. "Easy part's over," Sal said, turning to him. "Ready to do this thing?"

"Sal, I flew across the country to do this thing," Burnie reminded him. "Let's take these bastards down."  
It was afterwards, peeling off his vest behind one of Sal's cars that he saw Jones again, packing supplies away into a nondescript truck. He glanced around to make sure they were alone before stepping closer and tugging at the kid's sleeve. Jones jerked it away, glaring, fingers folding into a fist, but he relaxed minutely when he recognized Burnie.

"Burns," he said flatly.

"You're wasted here, you know that, right?"

Jones shrugged. "You know how it is."

"Sure," Burnie agreed easily. "I'm just saying, you ever decide you want to try your hand at something a little more interesting, give yourself a bit of a challenge, maybe in a warmer climate? You let me know." He extended a hand. "Burnie Burns."

"I know who you are," Jones said. He shook briefly. "Michael Jones." His eyes fell to a smear of blood running down Burnie's arm. "You've got - " he gestured.

Burnie didn't bother wiping it away. "You let me know," he repeated, and the laugh Jones gave him in reply was sincere, but harsh.

"Most of us," he said," don't just get to walk away."

He finished stashing his gear and disappeared behind the truck without looking back. Burnie waited until he was out of Sal's territory before he got on the phone with Geoff. "Hey," he said. "You and Gavino aren't in the market for an explosives guy, are you? Joel's pretty much got things covered in that department on our end, but man, Sal has this kid - "

Geoff laughed. "We send you to Jersey, and you come home asking for all the new toys?"

"Something like that." Burnie grinned. "I'm just saying, we extend an invitation."

"Maybe," Geoff said reluctantly. "Gav and I aren't really looking for a third, but I'll think about it."

Burnie should have expected it, months later, after Gavin had hopped a plane without nearly enough warning. He answered the phone sometime between too late and too early to find Geoff on the line with the sound of ice clinking in a glass behind his voice as he asked, "You had a name? An explosives guy? Jack and I might be looking."

Burnie grinned. "Change your mind?"

"Changed my circumstances. I don't know, I don't tend to like you East Coast fucks very much. But we'll give it a shot. See what happens. Gus said it might not be a great idea, though. Said you didn't want to piss these guys off."

Burnie shrugged. "That's history. We're even now. I think this one might be worth it."

"We'll see," Geoff said skeptically, and hung up.


	6. faint recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Jack

"Another." Geoff clunked his glass down against the bar, wincing, and the bartender gave him a long steady look before taking it.

"Yeah?" he asked, and Geoff just glared at him until he shrugged and nodded, disappearing to the other end of the bar.

"That's probably not the way to fix things," a voice said mildly, and someone settled down on the stool beside him. 

"I'm not looking to fix anything," he said. "I'm looking to get drunk." He looked up into a face that was vaguely familiar, although he couldn't quite put a name to it. He'd faced her over a gun more than once, sometimes on the same side of a fight, sometimes on opposite sides, and she'd managed to make it this long without him killing her, which said something not insignificant about her capabilities. She worked on contract, and wore completely impractical shorts, and with that, he found that he had utterly exhausted the facts he had at his disposal about her. 

"Maybe you should be," she offered, and at his carefully blank look, she clarified, "looking to fix things."

"That's not my job." 

She shrugged. "All right," she said mildly. They drank quietly for a few moments, both of them watching different TVs behind the bar, and she eventually said, "I hear you're down a man."

"Yeah?" he said noncommittally. "What else you hear?"

"That you're about to be run out of this town," she said, her voice flat, not like a threat or a warning, just like she was reporting the facts. "That maybe you couldn't give two shits about that. I hear that your guy didn't get killed in that last job, but he came damn close, and maybe that's why he's run off on you." 

At that, Geoff let himself look at her sharply, and she shrugged unapologetically. "That's not what happened."

"Good," she said. "That's what people are saying happened, though."

"He had business to take care of, that's all."

"So you _are_ alone," she said, and he cursed himself for confirming her words.

"I have people."

"Sure," she agreed. "That little crew you got started on the south side is doing well for themselves. I ran into them a while back, and they're not bad. They're practically kindergarteners, but they're not bad."

"Thanks," he said dryly, and waved his empty glass at the bartender again. 

"They're not _yours_ , though, not really. You saw to that when you set Tuggey up in charge down there." He raised an eyebrow at her knowing more about the TBE crew than _ran into them_ implied, but didn't respond. "And they're good, but they're not good enough to run this city. Not yet."

He sighed into his mustache and looked at her seriously. "What do you want?"

She shrugged. "Maybe you couldn't care less if you get run out of town, but there might be people here who do."

"Yeah?" he looked at her skeptically. "Like _you_?"

"This is my city," she said. "This has been my family's city for six generations. And it's always been chaos, it's always been a fight, that's what's perfect about it. But it finds balance, somehow, and it was just starting to do that, these past few years. Things were starting to tip into something that makes sense, the kind of chaos that's livable...not predictable, maybe, but not fucking ripping itself apart at the seams. And all of a sudden, it's all going to shit again. Things are falling apart, and I think I've figured out what's changed."

Geoff rolled his eyes. "If you say me - "

"It _is_ you, though," she insisted. "You and your boy, you were starting to keep things in check. Not perfectly, of course, this _is_ still Los Santos, but I've looked into the pattern of the targets you were hitting, okay? And I think you were onto something. I think you had a plan, and I think you never intended to execute it on your own."

"Jesus," Geoff muttered. "We're not goddamn Batman and Robin, here. We're just looking to get paid."

"Yeah?" she asked. "And how's that working out for you?" 

He shrugged and tapped the bar. "Still making enough to pay for my drinks."

"A lofty goal," she said dryly, and he glared at her. 

"I don't know what you've mistaken me for," he said, "but I'm not here to fucking save your city. I'm here to rob it blind."

"Good," she said. "I want to help."

"I'm not hiring," he said flatly.

"Okay," she said. "How about I hire you?" He stared at her. She reached for the napkin under his glass and scribbled an address on it. "I'm hitting these guys tomorrow night. They've been a real pain in my ass, and I'd like to see their pockets a little lighter. I can probably pull it off on my own, but I'd appreciate some backup." She shrugged and slid off her stool. "It'll be a good take, and half is yours. Your call."

"Damn right it is," Geoff said, but he leaned in to read the address. 

She was halfway to the door before he called after her. "Hey."

She paused and turned, looking hopeful.

"You got a name?"

"Jack."

He nodded and raised his eyebrows at her. "What, you're not gonna ask for mine?" Her laugh lit up her face in a way that made him want to make her do it again. "See you around, Jack."

"See you tomorrow, Ramsey."

"Don't count on it."

She gave him a dismissive wave on her way out the door, and he waited until she'd been gone for a few minutes before he stood unsteadily. He paused there by the bar for a moment, cursed under his breath, and grabbed the napkin, stuffing it into his pocket.


	7. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Geoff

“Fucking touristy bullshit,” Geoff muttered as Jack pulled in beside the Vinewood sign, but he found himself relaxing as they settled in against the hood of the car, passing a bottle between them as their plans got progressively more complicated, the drunker they got.

He found himself staring at her, curled onto his side around the bottle, cheek resting against his arm sleepily as she talked, waving her hands around animatedly with each new idea, silhouetted against the lights of their city.

“Goddamn, you are gorgeous,” he finally said matter-of-factly, and her words cut off abruptly as color rose in her cheeks.


	8. a postcard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael & Ray, implied Michael & Geoff or Jack

_Wish you were here._

Michael wasn't even sure why he flipped the postcard over. He knew it would be blank on the back, his address scribbled on in barely legible handwriting, but he looked anyway. _Los Santos_ , the front declared over a generic-looking beach, and Michael shook his head, laughing.

"Secret admirer?" Ray asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Nah," Michael went to stuff the postcard into his pocket, but Ray snatched it out of his hand, deftly flipping it over to read it. 

He looked up at Michael, uncharacteristically surprised. "Who do you know in Los Santos?" he asked.

Michael shrugged and grabbed the card back. "No one."

"Doesn't look like no one."

"It's just some guys," Michael said.

"Work guys?"

"Yeah. Work guys."

Ray's eyebrows climbed a little higher. "The kind of work guys that your bosses know about, or…? Because I've gotta tell you, that looks like either a threat…" He paused significantly and eyed Michael. "Or an offer."

"It's neither," Michael said, tucking the card away. "It's just a joke."

"Okay," Ray said mildly. "You've got people you're friendly enough with out there that they're sending you jokes?"

Michael shrugged, turning to walk down the sidewalk and not waiting for Ray to follow, matching his pace. "It's complicated."

"Because, I mean, if this is the kind of thing that isn't going to go over well with the people you work for – "

"It's _fine_ , Ray," Michael snapped, and Ray held up his hands. 

"I'm just saying," he said. "I've got your back."

Michael let that sit between them for a few moments before muttering a begrudging, "Thanks."

"And you might not be the only one around here with some friends on the West Coast."

"Oh yeah?" Michael asked. "Who do _you_ know in Los Santos?"

Ray shrugged casually. "Some guys."

They reached the corner, and their conversation steered away, but when Michael got home that night, he closed the door behind him and tacked the card up to the back of it, alongside all the others. Beaches, mountains, lit up cityscapes. Los Santos, San Andreas. _Wish you were here._

"Yeah," he said aloud. "Me too, man. Me too."


	9. lost in a city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack

"I don't hear anything," Geoff said quietly, leaning against the wall beside Jack. He jogged to the end of the alleyway and peered out at the cars speeding by. "I think they've moved off."

"Yeah." Jack was still doubled over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily, but she straightened up when he crossed back towards her, looking past him at the road. "We got damn lucky."

"Lucky," Geoff said dryly. "Right. Stranded in some part of town I've never seen before with our ride headed to exactly the wrong spot, and a whole pack of Los Santos's finest hovering like fucking vultures. That's sure my definition of lucky."

Jack gave him a withering look. "Well, whose fault is that?" she asked. She brushed by him to peer out onto the road, and relaxed. "Oh, it's cool, I've got this." She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him after her. "Come on. The pickup is this way."

Geoff looked at her skeptically, but his hand turned in hers, catching her fingers, keeping hold of her as he matched her pace down the sidewalk. "How do you _know_ that?" he demanded. "Everything looks the goddamn same in this part of town." 

"No it doesn't," Jack said. "You're just not looking hard enough." Geoff made a dismissive noise, but as they hurried across an intersection, horns blaring from the cars zipping by, she caught him taking an assessing scan around, cataloguing the details of the neighborhood. "Not _now_ , boss," she said, "jeez. Watch where you're going, would you?"

They reached the other side of the highway without incident, and he paused there, tilting his head back at the faint sound of a helicopter above them. "Do you hear – " he began, and Jack tightened her fingers against his, dragging him down the sidewalk. 

" _Yes_ ," she said. "We need to haul ass."

The spotlight was sudden and blinding and too close, and this time he was the one grabbing her and pulling her to action, dragging her sideways, off the road, into the nearest doorway. A bar, of fucking course, and he barely hesitated before pulling her through the door and inside. It was dim and crowded enough that no one gave them a second glance, and he wound them expertly across the room, by the front window to check on the chopper, then around the cramped tables to the back of the room, towards the exit.

She reached for the emergency door, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Hey," he said, "not yet." He nodded toward the window. "Let them roll out first."

She nodded and waved at the bar. "Buy you a drink?" she offered.

He grinned, his smile close and oddly calming in the dim smoky room, and he leaned against her side. 

"Not enough time for that, I don't think. Not if we want to catch Kdin at the pickup. But – " he hesitated, his fingers dropping to her waist, his eyes flickering down to her mouth, and she laughed.

"I'm not blowing you in the bathroom, Geoff."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, but when he leaned in to kiss her, it was soft and deep and familiar. "Well then," he said quietly against her lips, "what good are you to me?"

"Well, I mean," she said, and leaned in to kiss him back, her hand curling around his neck, catching the ends of his hair with her fingers. "I know the way out of here."

"You raise a compelling argument," he admitted. He kissed her unhurriedly, almost lazily, pressing against her like they had all the time in the world to stand there and make out against the wall. Eventually, he pulled away, peering toward the window, and nodded past her toward the door. "Probably about time we make use of that knowledge." She pushed him lightly back and reached for the door again, feeling him warm and close behind her. "I'm going to take you up on that drink when we get home, though."

"And the blowjob?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him, and he grinned.

"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe I'll just return the favor."

She swallowed at the thought, Geoff dropping to his knees in front of her, looking up at her with that same teasing smile, and she had to look away before she got so caught up in the image that she dragged him into the bathroom with her right there.

The alarm sounded as she pushed through the emergency door, and she cursed under her breath.

"Well," Geoff said brightly, "so much for being inconspicuous." He looked at her. "Run?"

"Run," she agreed, and his hand reached out to grab hers again as they bolted down the alley, the sound of sirens echoing to life around them.


	10. untitled - trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael & Ray

“Are you in town?” Michael says instead of _hello_.

“I’m.” Ray looks around, trying to remember which couch this is. "No,“ he says, sitting up. "But I can be. What’s up?”

“I’m out.” The words are flat, strained, and there’s a story behind them that neither of them has time for. Ray’s already up, shoving things into a bag. "I’m holed up, but – “

“Yeah,” Ray interrupts. "You can’t pull any of the strings yourself. I’m on it.“

"Ray?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, man. You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I’m just first on your speed dial.”

“Same thing.”


	11. untitled - don't cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael/Ray

“Hey. I’m here.”

It’s one of their lesser-used hideouts, broken-down and all but unusable in anything but an emergency, and when the door creaks open, Michael’s almost lost in the shadows, the outline of a gun in his hand.

“Hey, whoa. It’s me.” Ray reaches out to lower the gun, and Michael lets his arm fall immediately, not stepping forward, but reaching with his other hand to drag Ray into the room. Ray kicks the door shut behind him and lets Michael hold onto him, patting his back awkwardly.

“It’s cool,” he says as Michael pulls away. “I’ve got everything arranged. You’ve got a car outside, a meeting at the airfield in the morning. When you get to Los Santos, contact those guys with the job offer, and take it.”

The light is dim, but it’s enough for him to see Michael glaring at him. "This sounds an awful lot like a one-person plan,“ he says suspiciously.

“Yeah, well. I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

“Ray – ”

“Look, you call me for help, you take the help I’m offering. That’s it. That’s the deal. If you want these guys to hop the next plane for the west coast and come track your ass down, if you want them to take your family one at a time until you turn around, then fine, yeah, let’s go. Let’s go live it up on the beach for, what, a week? Do you think we’d make it that long?”

Michael makes a low frustrated sound, turning away. “Fine, then,” he says. “I’m staying too.”

“Like hell you are. You think it’s nothing, shelling out the kind of cash I had to to get this thing to work? You think I can just _do_ that? Fuck _you_ , Michael. You get on that plane. I clean up here. That’s how this works.”

“I can’t just – ”

“And then you owe me for the rest of our fucking lives,” Ray adds.

Michael goes quiet. "Yeah?“ he asks finally.

” _Hell_ yeah.“

“I’m holding you to that.”

“If you think I won’t collect, you don’t know shit about me,” Ray says. Michael crosses to the tattered mattress in the corner, settling down on it, and after a moment, Ray follows, perching on the edge of it and looking at Michael in the dimness. He looks exhausted, moves too slowly and gingerly, and Ray reaches out to touch his shoulder lightly. "Hey,“ he says. "You okay?”

Michael lets out a choked little laugh. "Fucking fantastic,“ he mutters, and his hands close around Ray, dragging him back onto the bed, curling tight around him and breathing out shakily, miserably.

"Hey, no, fuck that,” Ray says, curling his fingers into Michael’s hair. "Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking cry. This is what we _do_ , okay? And I’m not going to brag or anything, but I’m better at what we do than anyone we know.“

Michael does manage a real laugh at that, a low one, strained, but he tucks his face against Ray’s neck. "Yeah,” he agrees without a hint of irony in his voice. “You are.” He falls quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks again, he almost sounds hopeful. "Los Santos, huh?“

"You’re gonna fucking love it,” Ray says, and he lies awake long after Michael’s passed out against him, trying to imagine Michael settling into the crew – not quite _his_ crew, but almost – without him.


	12. untitled - multitasking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack

“Jack.”

“Not now, boss.”

“ _Jack_.”

She darted a glance at him. “Geoff,” she said evenly.

He grinned at her. “I’m about to jump out of this chopper.” He patted the strap of his chute. “No kiss for good luck or anything?”

“You want me to kiss you, or keep this thing in the sky?”

“The Jack I know could do both.”

“Could, not would.”

He grumbled quietly as the signal sounded. She reached for his tie without looking, dragging him in for a rough kiss. “Don’t die, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve seen how your plans turn out.”


	13. what are you looking for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Michael, mention of Geoff/Jack

He was going to fucking kill Michael.

Their job that day had been tense - too many close calls, not enough payoff - and with Jack out of town and Ryan nowhere to be found, it had just been the two of them, still learning how to make their own strengths and rhythms match up. By the time they got back to the apartment, Michael was practically vibrating with unspent energy. They'd showered, eaten, cycled through a few rounds of three different games because he couldn't make up his mind, and now he was pacing, flipping through the internet on his phone, but unable to keep still, wandering from one end of the living room to the other, opening and closing the balcony door, hopping up to perch on the counter in the kitchen, then sliding off again immediately.

"I am going," Geoff said calmly from his spot on the couch, "to fucking kill you."

"Nah," Michael replied carelessly, and didn't stop his pacing.

Geoff had his legs kicked up on the coffee table, a book in his hand and a drink next to him. The perfect wind down from a long day, and if it had been Jack restlessly circling him, he would have been all set, would have been able to tell exactly what she needed. But Michael was still unfamiliar enough that he had no idea how to unwind him, and there was very little that frustrated Geoff more than not knowing things.

"You don't have to stay here, you know," he said finally, setting his book aside. "I mean," he added when Michael turned to him, "you have to _stay_ here, at least until we make sure that you don't have a pack of mob goons on your back, but you're not a prisoner or anything. Go out somewhere. Get a drink. Take a goddamn walk." 

Michael shook his head. "I go out tonight, I'm gonna fight the first asshole that looks at me wrong."

Geoff shrugged. "Go ahead. I don't fucking care who you fight. Just don't lose. You'll make me look bad." 

"I don't want to go out. I don't know anyone in this town."

"If Ryan was around, I'd tell him to take you down to the gym and go a few rounds."

Michael shrugged. "He's not." He eyed Geoff. "You could."

It was the first thing he'd showed much interest in all night, and for that alone, Geoff almost considered it. But he'd made it an unofficial rule not to fight his guys, not to let anyone get familiar enough to know exactly how to get the upper hand on him, so he shook his head. "Nah, I'm too lazy for that shit," he said. "And too old to get all fucking - " he waved a hand at Michael, "hopped up on adrenaline every time a job doesn't go down the way I want it to."

"I'm not - " Michael began to protest, but the words died at the look Geoff gave him. "Yeah, okay," he relented, flopping down onto the couch beside him. "It's just - you don't spend all night replaying it all in your head? Like you can figure out exactly where you went wrong, and do it better next time?"

"Of course I do." Geoff met his eyes. "Do you think I'd be where I am right now if I didn't do that? I just don't do it like you do. Gavin worked a lot like you. I'd be scraping him off the walls after a day like today."

"Yeah?" Michael considered for a moment. "I'd probably hate him."

Geoff grinned. "Probably, yeah." 

"So how'd you deal with it with him?" Michael asked. "You know, when he got in the way of you being all boring and shit." He gestured at Geoff's book.

"Fucked him," he replied succinctly.

Michael went silent for a long moment, then said, " _Oh_ ," in a quiet voice, and when Geoff tilted his head to look over at him, his face had gone instantly flushed.

He shrugged. "You asked."

"That's true," Michael agreed. "I did." He eyed Geoff speculatively, and Geoff raised an eyebrow at him. 

"So it was…like it is with Jack, then?"

Geoff laughed. "I know you never met the guy, but what about any story you've ever heard about Gavin makes you think he was like Jack?"

"Not _him_ ," Michael clarified. "You guys. Together, running the city."

"Not really, no. It was different then, starting out. He'd latched on to Burnie's guys, back in San Andreas, and when Burnie decided it was time to make a move on Los Santos…" He shrugged. "Gav was my team. He was my backup, my sounding board. He…" He shook his head. "It was different," he finished. "It was rough, and messy, and there's no amount of money in the world that could get me to go back to those days." He lifted his glass to find that it was empty, and levered himself off the couch towards the bar. He could feel Michael's eyes on him as he crossed the room, and when he reached the bar, he lifted a glass towards him as an offer. Michael nodded too quickly, pushing himself up as well and crossing to take the glass from him, bouncing lightly on his toes beside the bar.

"Sorry I missed it," he said lightly. "Sounds like fun."

Geoff laughed. "I won't lie," he said, "we probably could have used you on some of those jobs."

"You could _always_ use me," Michael said self-assuredly, taking a sip from his drink, and Geoff could see the moment when he rewound the words in his head, realizing how they sounded. His eyes darted up to Geoff's, looking momentarily flustered. "I mean – "

"Noted," Geoff said slyly.

Michael snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I’m sure Jack would love that," he said.

"It's not like that," Geoff said. "We're not – " He shrugged. "It's not that complicated. Jack and I are…we're important to each other. We plan, and we fight, and we fuck, and we kick ass. And we're damn good at doing all of those things, especially together."

Michael nodded and held up his hands. "Hey, I wasn't – " he said, but Geoff could see his brain turning over the thought, now that it was out there, all his unexpended energy still humming under his skin, and it would have been easy to give him a smile, tell him again to go out and find a bar to fight at, someone there to fuck, but he was looking at Geoff like he had finally realized what he needed, and it wasn't anything he was going to find out in the streets of Los Santos. "Or, I don't know." He glanced away, his fingers too tight on his glass, words dropping to a mumble. "Maybe I was."

"It's not, like, a job requirement, you know," Geoff pointed out. "Jack and Gavin aside, I don't generally tend to mix pleasure and business."

"And Griffon," Michael pointed out. 

"And Griffon," Geoff allowed. "Okay, maybe I do, but only because I work with some hot-ass people."

"Understandable," Michael said, looking up again to meet Geoff's eyes. "Look, this isn't – "

"Would it make you stop fucking jittering your way around my apartment?"

" _Yes_ ," Michael said with feeling, and Geoff found himself starting to plan out ways to make him go breathless like that again.

"Well, then." Geoff stepped into Michael's space, and enjoyed the way he didn't back up, standing his ground until Geoff moved into him bodily, pressing him back along the bar. He reached to take the glass from Michael's fingers and set it aside, and Michael's back made a solid thud against the wall. "Allow me," Geoff said, and dropped to his knees.


	14. behind closed doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack & Ryan

"Ryan, Jesus." Jack caught up with him halfway down an alley, her strides matching his as sirens blared behind them. "I saw you go down out there, are you – "

"There are six on our tail, and two up ahead," he said tersely. "Take the fire escape and go across the rooftops. Safehouse is three blocks over." He peeled off to hop a fence into a parking lot, but not before she saw the blood seeping down onto his collar from under his mask.

She swore under her breath, but followed his instructions, grabbing onto the ladder and hauling herself up. She met no resistance on her way – luckily they hadn't had time to call in air reinforcements – and the sirens were fading into the distance as she reached the safehouse and dropped in through a third floor window.

"Better be one of you," Michael said in her ear, and she laughed quietly.

"It's me, Michael," she assured him. "Ryan should be right behind me."

"He beat you here," Michael replied, and as she made her way down the stairs, she could see him silhouetted in the front window, gun at the ready. He looked up at her and nodded, switching off his comm. "Went right into the bathroom. I think he's kinda fucked up."

"Yeah," she agreed, "I think so. Geoff and Ray?"

"Just checked in. Nearly to their target."

"Good." She knelt by his bag and pulled out a first aid kit, then gestured down the hall. "I'm gonna – "

He nodded and turned back to the window. The hallway was dark, and the door to the bathroom was closed. She could hear Ryan shuffling around inside as she knocked lightly.

"Ryan?"

She expected him to ignore her, or tell her to go away, but instead there was a long pause, and then the door creaked open. She slipped inside to find him leaning over the sink, inspecting a slice in his mask in the mirror.

"How bad?" she asked him, and he shrugged.

"Not too bad," he said. "Just messy. I'd leave it, but if Geoff and Ray come in hot – "

"Yeah," she agreed. "Better to take care of it now, while we have time. Come here." She set the kit on the counter and hopped up to sit beside it, gesturing Ryan closer. She reached out to touch the edge of his mask, against his neck, where blood was starting to dry on his skin, and he pulled back. 

She sighed. "Look, I can let you deal with this yourself, but – "

"No, I'm – " Ryan reached up, tugging at the mask hesitantly for a moment. "It's fine."

"I promise not to hunt you down in your sleep or anything," she said.

He breathed out a laugh, and pulled the mask off. "Thanks. Appreciate it." She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been someone so unremarkable. Under the paint around his eyes, he had the kind of face that she never would have looked twice at if she passed it on the street, almost a better mask than the one he usually wore. He leaned in, scrutinizing the shallow gash over his ear, and winced as he poked at it, smearing greasepaint into his hair.

"Hey, cut it out," she said, reaching out to grab his wrist, and when he looked over at her, his eyes were startlingly blue against the paint. He let his hand drop, though, and reached to rifle around in her kit for a moment.

"I should probably stash some stuff in here," he said. "I don't usually clean up in the field." He pulled out a tube of lotion. "This will do, I guess." He looked around at the abandoned bathroom, considering, then shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, smearing paint across it as he dragged it over his head. Jack intended not to stare, she really did, but this was the Mad King, the Vagabond, stripping down casually and shrugging his jacket back on over his bare chest, and she couldn't help but let her eyes travel over his skin just a little, taking in the scars and marks there – some more faded than others. When she looked back up at him, there was a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Face is up here, Pattillo," he said, sounding amused instead of annoyed. 

"Couldn't tell, under all that crap," she replied. She reached out to take the shirt from his hands, and started cleaning off the paint quickly and efficiently. He tilted away for a moment, looking ready to object, but when she raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged instead and closed his eyes, letting her work. He held himself stiffly at first, leaning with his fingers tight against the edge of the counter, but he gradually got more comfortable, his breathing slowing, shoulders relaxing, and by the time she pulled away to inspect her work, his eyes blinked open slowly, like he had almost been asleep on his feet.

She inspected the cut, carefully wiping away some of the blood, and he met her eyes. "What do you think?" he asked. "Am I going to live?"

"For now," she replied. She cleaned and bandaged the cut, and he didn't quite wince as she touched the skin around it, but his eyes went narrow and fixed on the mirror until she was done. "You're good," she said finally. "Maybe skip the paint for a day or two, unless you think you can keep it from smearing up there."

He nodded, and opened his mouth to reply, but Michael's shout from the front room interrupted. "Hey, if you guys are done making out in there or whatever, our ride's almost here."

Jack packed her things away and hopped down from the counter. She was almost disappointed to see Ryan pull the mask back on, but without the paint, his eyes were easier to see inside of it, and she could tell he was smiling as he opened the door for her.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"Anytime," she replied, and reached out to zipper his jacket up to his throat, hiding his naked chest.


	15. someone else's mortification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Ray, mention of Geoff/Jack

Geoff was hovering just on the edge of sleep when his phone rang, and he squinted at the screen in the darkness, frowning. Jack let out a mumbled questioning noise beside him.

"It's _Ray_ ," Geoff said, baffled, and Jack's eyes snapped open.

"What?" She leaned over to inspect the phone. "Well, goddamn."

Geoff answered, lifting the phone hesitantly to say, "Ray?"

"Geoff, I've got a situation here."

Geoff felt a sick lurch at the tension in Ray's voice, the words coming out tight and clipped. "Okay," he said calmly, sitting up. "Who did you get tangled up with?"

"Not my fault," Ray said quickly.

"Does it sound like that's my first concern right now?"

Ray sighed. "Look, Lindsay was dealing with a thing, asked me to do some recon. I...maybe did a little more than recon."

Geoff sighed. "Where are you?" Beside him, Jack was already swinging her legs out of the bed, grabbing her gun from the bedside table. 

"Southside docks," Ray said. "Third warehouse down, up in the rafters. Still undetected for now, as far as I can tell, but they've got some heavy shit going on down here. My last spot got made in about thirteen seconds flat, and now I'm kind of...well, stuck, a little." He sounded deeply embarrassed, and at any other time, Geoff would have welcomed the opportunity to laugh at the great Brownman getting knocked down a few notches. But right now, he felt almost sick with worry, in a way he was used to feeling over Gavin, or Jack, or occasionally Michael, but never Ray before. "I wouldn't have called," Ray said finally, stiffly, "but Michael's not answering, and Ryan - "

" _Ryan_?" Geoff interrupted. "You called Ryan before me?"

Ray sighed deeply. "We're doing this?"

"Oh, you better believe we're doing this." At a look from Jack, Geoff added, "but maybe not right now." He stood, tucking the phone against his shoulder and grabbing a pair of pants. "Stay down, stay quiet. We'll be there soon."

"Gee, thanks," Ray said. "I needed some tips on how to do my job."

"I mean, apparently you _did_ ," Geoff practically snapped, and immediately regretted it when Ray failed to answer at all. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Just...hang in there, okay? We're on our way."

"Thanks." Ray clearly was trying to lace the word with irony, but Geoff could hear the honest relief behind it.

"Man, he said with fake cheer, "Michael's going to laugh for like a week when he finds out you had to call in the cavalry."

Jack's contribution was to whistle a fanfare and call "Charge!" towards the phone, and Ray made a disgusted noise.

"Just get here?" he suggested. 

"Working on it, buddy," Geoff assured him. "Don't do anything dumb in the meantime. I know it'll be hard for you, but..."

"Working on it, buddy," Ray repeated dryly, and hung up.

"I should get paid more for being a fucking babysitter," Geoff muttered as he followed Jack out into the hallway, and she laughed.

"Please," she said. "You fucking love it. You'll get to hold this over him for months."

"True," Geoff admitted. He didn't add _if we get him out_ , but he could tell by the way Jack met his eyes that she knew he was thinking it. She reached out a hand to rest against his side as they stood in the elevator, and he leaned against her touch briefly. "This having a team thing is bullshit," he said.

"Total bullshit, boss," she agreed cheerfully, stepping out into the garage. "Just remember that next time it's Ray saving _your_ ass."

Geoff snorted. "He never - "

"The Depository," Jack pointed out. "The Arcadius job. That shit that went down in Vinewood like three days ago. Or did you forget that already?" Geoff grumbled quietly, and Jack gave him a light push towards the car. "Admit it, you don't even know what you'd do with yourself without us anymore." 

"I'd be a very happy, very rich man," Geoff objected.

"Nah, you'd be a very dead man, and you know it." She dropped into the driver's seat and grinned at him as he slid in beside her. "Come on," she said. "Let's go get our boy."

He felt a sudden complicated twist at that, at the way she easily and completely claimed Ray as one of theirs. Not Ryan, who had been there with the two of them since so early on, or Michael, who had inexplicably wound himself so effortlessly into every corner of their lives, but Ray, with his sharp humor and easy competence, and the way he took to each job like he was born to do nothing else.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. He gave her a quick smile. "Team OG to the rescue."

"Hell yeah," she agreed, and rolled the windows down as they soared through their city towards the docks, Geoff already planning out all the ways he was going to give Ray shit once he was safe in the car with them on the way back home.


	16. something about music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crew gen

"Points!" Gavin announced gleefully from the backseat, and Ray groaned.

"I wasn't – " he started to object, but Gavin interrupted him.

"You absolutely were. Ryan, tell him that he was humming it."

"Well," Ryan replied, "you're assuming a lot for both my musical knowledge and the extent to which I pay attention to either of you if you think I noticed what he was humming." He looked over at Ray. "But you _were_ humming."

Ray glared at him.

"I was singing that like three minutes ago!" Gavin declared. "So points for me."

"I fucking hate you and everything you stand for," Ray said flatly.

"You do realize this is a stupid game, right?" Ryan asked. "I mean, objectively speaking. Is anyone even keeping track of who's winning at this point?"

"I am," Gavin said definitively.

"Nah, man, Geoff is kicking your ass," Ray replied.

"Geoff cheats," Gavin declared.

"How do you _cheat_?" Ray demanded, and Ryan tuned out Gavin's attempt at an explanation.

They all sang constantly.

He hadn't noticed it back in the beginning, when it was just Geoff and Jack. The two of them had so many quirks to their communication style that Ryan had spent most of his time quietly observing and only really picking up on the pieces that impacted him. It wasn't until Michael showed up that Ryan started to notice how often they were all singing, humming, picking up on bits of words from conversation and spinning them into lyrics. 

He'd never found much of a use for music, so it wasn't something he'd ever paid much attention to, but suddenly he was surrounded by it, Ray and Gavin deadpanning lines back and forth to each other over the comm, Jack singing quietly to herself as she guided a chopper easily across the city, Geoff tossing back his head to wail along off-key as he drove.

Ryan wanted to be annoyed by it, but most of the time he found himself smiling at them behind his mask despite himself.

He realized that the conversation in the car had ground to a sudden halt, and focused again, realizing he had zoned out looking at the road. He shot a look over at Ray, who was staring at him, and when he glanced up into the rearview mirror, Gavin's eyes were intent on him as well.

"What?" he demanded, and watched a grin spread across Gavin's face.

"You know you were humming, yeah?" Gavin asked him. 

He reached forward to pinch the back of Ray's neck, and both of them yelled out "Points!" in unison.


	17. day off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael/Gavin

"Michael."

The sun was setting above them, the sky streaked with pink and orange, and Michael didn't look up, keeping his head hanging off the back of his tube, arms stretched out, staring up at the sky. "Mmm?" he offered in reply.

"Michael, we _need_ to get Geoff to install a pool."

Michael laughed, tipping his head to look over at Gavin. "Install it where, exactly?" he asked. "The roof?"

"Do you think Jack would do flyovers and see if we could drop into it?"

"That would be pretty badass," Michael admitted. "But I'm pretty sure you being in the pool on top of a high rise is just asking for trouble. Didn't you break Geoff's ankle jumping off a roof into a pool once?"

" _No_ ," Gavin said defensively. "He broke his own ankle. I had nothing to do with it."

"Really? Because that picture Jack took tells a different story." He reached over to grab Gavin's hand dramatically, dragging his tube closer. " _Oh, Geoff, hold my hand, I'm so scared!_ " He let Gavin go, spinning him away. " _Crunch_. That looks about how it went."

"You don't know! You weren't there. It was pre-Michael."

"Meh." Michael waved a hand. "I'm just saying. You guys have some shitty ideas."

"Like hiring you," Gavin muttered under his breath, and Michael was off his tube in seconds, spilling Gavin out of his and dunking him under the water, enjoying the incoherent spluttering noises he made as he surfaced.

" _Michael_!" he finally managed to get out, sounding utterly betrayed, and he launched himself at him, knocking over the cooler of drinks floating alongside them in the process.

"Dammit, Gavin, the bevs!" Michael objected, easily fending him off with one hand while he salvaged the cooler. Gavin pummeled at him ineffectually until he ended up completely wrapped around him like a starfish, clinging with all of his limbs. "Fuck _off_ ," Michael said, shoving at him, but Gavin just clung tighter, beaming at him, his face too close to Michael's, eyes glinting under the sunset.

"Look at _this_ ," he said delightedly, wrapping a hand around Michael's forearm and squeezing. "What's that, then? Are you going to turn into a proper beefcake?" He eyed Michael. "It's because Barbara brought Blaine the last time she came to town, isn't it? You want to go all muscley on us."

" _Ugh_ ," Michael said, finally dislodging him and dunking him under the water. Gavin popped up and floated in a circle around him, unconcerned. "I don't know, Geoff has me doing some boxing stuff sometimes, I guess. Ryan knows some guys at this gym…it's not a big deal, Gavin."

"All right, then," Gavin said vaguely, draping himself over Michael's back, but his hand skimmed up Michael's arm to his shoulder in a way that made him shiver, and he could practically hear the smile in Gavin's voice as he let his fingers rest against Michael's neck and said quietly beside his ear, "You look good, boy."

He kicked away at that, retrieving his tube and hoisting himself up onto it, cracking open another drink, but when Michael joined him, floating alongside, Gavin tossed his legs over Michael's, hooking them together, and Michael let a hand rest casually against Gavin's ankle, occasionally tracing idle patterns against his skin, and imagining putting his developing muscles to good use making the guy go still for just a few minutes.

It was dark by the time they made their way back to the car, leaving the empties of their stolen beer floating along on stolen tubes in a borrowed pool, and it was only then that Michael let himself really reach for Gavin, both of them wound up from the beer and the swimming and their hands on each other too casually for too long. Michael pushed him lightly up against the side of the car and leaned in, waiting for Gavin to be the one to lean forward and claim his lips demandingly as he leaned against him, his fingers going tighter and tighter against his skin, waiting for an objection that never came.


	18. rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Griffon, mention of Geoff/Griffon, implied Geoff/Gavin/Griffon

They still got inked together, even after everything.

There was a hotel just outside of town with shitty lighting and a bartender who knew their drink orders on sight, and Geoff would duck out after a job to Jack's knowing smile, Ray cleaning his gun like an offer. Geoff never bothered to explain to him that they met this way not because they didn't trust each other, but because they did.

They would meet in the bar, and Griffon would usually beat him there, laughing with the bartender over her first or second drink, and would lean back easily against Geoff as he'd put an arm around her from behind, kissing the top of her hair as a hello. They'd talk shop until it dissolved into storytelling, each of them trying to outdo each other with their crew's latest hijinks, and by the time they made it back to their room, they'd both be unsteady on their feet, sometimes laughing so hard they were holding each other up, and they would keep going from there, stretching out on the bed and putting on some movie neither of them cared about, paying almost no attention to it as they traded the pieces of each other's lives that they missed out on by living apart.

The time when those nights would end in them fucking desperately against the sheets had long passed, but Geoff still found an odd sort of comfort in falling asleep with her, his fingers tracing the already-existing lines down her arms, a hand pressing to the spot where new lines would appear in the morning, and they still fit together perfectly for sleeping, her head tucked against his shoulder, breath warm on the skin of his neck.

Tattooing was a morning activity, both of them showing up to the shop bleary-eyed, clutching giant coffees like lifelines, and their guy would invite them in way too cheerfully for such a disgusting hour. Griffon always went first, and she would hold onto Geoff's hand almost absently as the artist worked, talking idly about everything and nothing, her breath occasionally catching as the pen scraped across her skin. She would relax afterward, like she was finally completely satisfied, and she'd pace the room quietly while Geoff got done, examining the new art on the walls, making occasional approving comments, sometimes circling back around to brush a hand over his shoulder or through his hair, grounding him with the brief contact.

They wouldn't linger long after, walking each other back to their cars under the unreasonably ugly motel sign, Griffon leaning in to press a hand over the new bandage wherever it was and kiss him lightly on the cheek, saying "say hi to Gavin for me, would you?" Then she'd be gone, peeling out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust and blaring music, and he'd make his own way home, to his team and his city, with one more memory etched into his skin.


	19. surprise celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crew gen, implied Geoff/Michael

"This," Geoff said solemnly, "is the greatest day of my life."

"Man," Michael said, striding through the door with Ray’s gun slung across his back, "you have got to see this guy’s stash of - " he broke off at the sight of Geoff crouching in front of the nearest crate, practically bouncing on his toes. " _Damn_ ,” he said appreciatively. “Is that all - “

"Whiskey," Gavin confirmed. "Lots and lots of whiskey."

“ _Good_ whiskey,” Geoff agreed.

"Oh yay," Ray said dryly, appearing behind Michael and reaching to take his gun back. "Just what I always wanted. Is it Christmas?" Michael ducked out of the strap distractedly and crossed to peer over Geoff’s shoulder.

"Nope," Geoff said, fending him off. "Mine."

"I mean, not for nothing," Michael said, "but I would guess that buying good booze is not actually that difficult for you."

"Right," Geoff said, lifting a bottle from the crate and holding it up to the light, "but I don’t have to buy this. It’s mine already."

"For a very loose definition of ‘ _yours_ ,’” Ryan chimed in over the comm. “If we’re going with ‘finder’s keepers’ rules…”

"And if we’re disregarding the fact that we are absolutely splitting this haul six ways," Jack’s voice added, and Geoff made a face.

"I call Ray’s share," Michael said immediately.

Ray shot him a look. “Yeah?” he asked mildly. “What are you gonna do for it?”

Michael looked faintly startled for a moment, then leered suggestively. “What do you want me to do?”

"I’m just saying," Ray said, "you might not be the only one here who wants a piece of what I’ve got. If you know what I mean."

"Ew," Gavin said, but he was grinning.

Geoff opened the bottle he was holding, and took a long drink from it. “Cheers, boys,” he said, toasting them, and neatly evading Gavin’s fingers as he grabbed for the bottle. “Jack, bring our ride around, would you? We’ve got some unloading to do.”

"You’re going to want to do it fast," Ryan commented. "We’re about to have company."

"Son of a bitch," Geoff muttered. "If anyone wants this, they’re going to have to come through me."

"I think that’s the idea," Ryan pointed out. "And I’m pretty sure the whiskey isn’t their priority."

"They need to get some new priorities, then," Geoff replied.

"Hey, Ryan," Jack spoke up, her voice crackling over the comm. "You don’t drink, do you?"

"Not…really…" Ryan replied.

"Dibs."

"How about you get our asses out of here?" Geoff suggested. "Before we start divvying up the merchandise."

"Well, I’d like to know what I’m getting out of this," she pointed out reasonably.

“ _Me_!” Geoff all but yelled. “And the rest of your fucking team.”

"Well." They could practically hear her shrug. "I guess that’s something." There was a screech of tires outside the doors, and when Ray rolled them open, Jack was hopping out of the truck, Ryan already standing in front of it, watching the entrance of the complex through his scope.

"I’d suggest weapons first," he said, " _then_ whiskey.”

The others all exchanged looks, and Gavin was the first one to start laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said, “have you confused us for some other crew?”

"How about weapons _while_ whiskey?” Michael suggested, already pushing a large crate toward the door. “Because this guy’s commitment to grenades was intense, and I want _all_ of them.”

"Are we splitting those six ways too?" Gavin asked, crossing to help Michael move the crate.

"Please," Michael replied. "Like I would _ever_ give you grenades. I like my limbs, thank you.”

"Grenades and whiskey," Ryan said dryly. "Sounds like a recipe for success."

"I mean." Geoff shrugged, helping Jack carefully set a crate of bottles into the back of the truck. "It’s worked for us so far."

“ _Grenades and Whiskey: The Fake AH Crew Story_ ,” Ray said. “Starring these assholes.”

"Man, we’d make a terrible movie," Jack said.

"Yeah, it would just be everyone yelling at Gavin to shut the fuck up for an hour and a half," Michael replied.

"Hey!" Gavin objected. "That’s not - "

"Shut the fuck up, Gavin!" three of them said at once.

Michael was pushing the last crate into the truck as Ryan said tersely, “Let’s roll out.”

"I’m letting you know right now," Geoff said, taking shotgun beside Jack, "if shit goes down, I will happily sacrifice any of you for this cargo."

"Thanks, boss," Jack said dryly.

"Okay, Gavin," Michael said from the back, slamming the hatch shut and giving the wall a thump to signal to Jack. "It’s you and me and the killjoys back here. Want to see how much of Geoff’s precious cargo we can finish off before we get back to base?"

"Whatever you drink is coming out of your cut!" Geoff told him, and Michael beamed.

"So we _do_ get a cut,” he said smugly.

"I mean," Geoff said, "I could drink it all myself, but that probably wouldn’t end well for anyone."

"Well, in that case," Gavin said, pulling a bottle from one of the crates and tipping it towards Michael. 

"Cheers, boy."

"I assume most of this is going to the docks?" Jack asked, and Geoff looked over at her.

"Where exactly have you been driving us this whole time, if not there?"

She shrugged. “Away?” she offered.

He sighed into his mustache. “The docks, yeah. The good stuff’s coming home with me, though.”

"Then so are we!" Gavin called from the back. The bottle was in Michael’s hand now, and he nodded emphatically. "Bevs at the boss’s!"

"Can I not do that?" Ray asked, and Gavin slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Who would beat me mercilessly at games if you’re not there, Ray?" he asked plaintively.

"Um, anyone?" Geoff offered.

Gavin nudged Ryan with his toes. “In?” he asked.

"Babysitting a bunch of drunken assholes in a penthouse apartment? Yeah, sounds like exactly my idea of fun," he said dryly, but he kicked Gavin lightly back, and once they’d unloaded the weapons and returned to Geoff’s, he somehow didn’t mysteriously disappear when no one was looking. Instead, he sat in the corner of the sofa, talking quietly with Jack as everyone got drunker and louder around them, until his legs were kicked out in front of him, his arm stretched across the back of the cushions, gesturing with a glass of soda while he told a story about some job that had gone horribly wrong.

"So," Michael said, letting the controller tumble from his fingers and his head tip back against Geoff’s leg. "Greatest day of your life, huh, boss?"

Geoff lifted his glass to look through it at the remaining liquid, and drank it down in one gulp. “Right up there,” he said, and let his hand fall loosely against the back of Michael’s neck as he set the empty glass down.


	20. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan/Ray - NSFW

He woke to the sound of someone picking the lock on the door, and his gun was in his hand before his eyes were even open. "Try it, motherfucker,“ he muttered, holding the gun steady at the creaking door with one hand, grabbing for his glasses with the other.

It was Ryan’s silhouette that appeared as the door swung open, and Ray let the gun drop, saying, “Jesus, Ryan, warn a guy, would you?” and watched his shadow startle against the dim hallway light.

“Oh,” Ryan said, his voice dull and tired. “Ray. Hi.” 

He tucked whatever he was picking the lock with back into his pocket and hovered there in the doorway. "I pulled this address off one of Geoff’s files a while back, didn’t know it was in use. Sorry, I just…” He trailed off, backing toward the door. "Never mind. 'Night.“

“Hey.” Ray reached out to flick on the light, squinting miserably in the harsh glare. Ryan’s mask was off, his facepaint smeared and dripping onto his collar, his hands and jacket splattered with blood. Ray let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he said. “You look rough.”

“Thanks.” Ryan reached to run a hand through his hair, but thought better of it when he caught sight of the state of his fingers, hovering it awkwardly beside his head for a moment before letting it drop. "I’m just gonna…go.“

“I mean,” Ray shrugged. "If you were looking for a shower, I’m not using it.“ He gestured toward the bathroom. "Be my guest.”

Ryan hesitated. "Yeah?“

"Uh, rather than walk around town looking like _that_? Yeah, man. Go be less of a disaster. I’d offer you some clothes too, but…well.”

Ryan let out a low laugh, kicking the door shut behind him. “Yeah, not so much. Thanks, though. For the shower.”

Ray shrugged. "Hey, I don’t pay the bills on this place.“ He kicked his feet up onto the arm of the couch, pulling out his phone. "What Geoff doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“In this town?” Ryan gave a lopsided smile. "It might.“ He disappeared into the bathroom, and Ray spent a few minutes scrolling idly through the internet before letting his phone drop to his chest, closing his eyes and not quite dozing off to the sound of the water running, washing blood and paint away down the drain.

Ryan emerged from the bathroom a few minutes after silence fell again, jacket discarded, wearing his jeans and toweling his hair off with his t-shirt. Ray let his head drop to the side, admiring the view, the long lines of Ryan’s chest, the way his pants outlined the edges of his hipbones, and when he looked back up to Ryan’s face, Ryan was watching him, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, heat in his eyes.

Ray pushed himself off the couch in one smooth movement, tucking his phone away into his pocket, and he crossed the room to stand between Ryan and the door. 

"So, there’s a bedroom,” he offered. “Haven’t really taken it for a test drive yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan looked down at him, and he looked fucking wrecked, like he could probably sleep for a year and a half straight, but he let the shirt drop from his fingers, reaching for Ray instead, curling a hand against his side and pulling him close.

His fingers were hard, demanding, but as Ray backed him toward the bedroom, he felt Ryan following his touch willingly, letting Ray take over almost immediately. He gave Ryan a push, and Ryan dropped to the bed, letting Ray drag his pants right back off of him. He went to his knees, not because he felt like Ryan expected it, but because he wanted to, and when he leaned in, Ryan let out a slow shuddering breath, but stayed still against the bed, not reaching for Ray, not thrusting up into his mouth, just sprawling out bonelessly as Ray sucked him to hardness. He would have gotten him off just like that, but eventually Ryan pressed a hand to the side of his face, gasping out, “Ray. _Ray_.”

Ray pulled away, looking up at him over the naked expanse of his body, and Ryan was flushed, his cock curving invitingly. He reached a hand to wrap it around himself, giving a long slow stroke, his eyes fluttering shut briefly. “Hey, could you…” he looked embarrassed, and Ray sat back on his heels, raising his eyebrows.

“Want something kinky?” he offered, and the laugh Ryan let out was genuine and a little startled.

“No,” he said. "I think I’m too tired for kinky. It’s just…” he scooted up the bed, making room for Ray, and dropped his eyes to Ray’s clothes until he reached for them, starting to pull them off. Ryan rolled over, stretching out on his stomach.

Ray let his eyes travel over Ryan’s back, the curve of his ass, all this naked skin that he almost never got to see. Most of the time, they were rushed, catching moments like these with each other in between all the other chaos of their lives, and Ray had gotten to know the map of scars and tattoos across Ryan’s back mostly through touch, brief glimpses in bad lighting. 

“ _Fuck_ , man,” Ray said. “If I’d have known I was getting laid tonight…”

Ryan laughed, low and turned on, and he looked over his shoulder at Ray. "C'mere,“ he said, his voice rough, and Ray took no more prompting to climb onto the bed beside him. Ryan was flushed, his breath coming slow and hard as he reached a hand under himself, rocking his hips down into his touch. Ray reached out to run a hand down his back, and Ryan’s whole body shivered. Encouraged by his reaction, Ray let his hand rest against Ryan’s waist and knelt up, waiting for Ryan’s quiet ” _Yeah_ “ before he slung a leg over him, straddling him low on his back, feeling the way his hips were rocking down against the pressure of his hand.

He braced himself against Ryan’s shoulder with one hand, but reached the other down to jerk himself lightly, enjoying the feeling of Ryan warm and squirming under him. "Not too kinky,” he agreed, leaning forward to stretch out along Ryan’s back and feeling more than hearing the way he moaned at the press of Ray’s body against him, holding him down against the bed. "Just fucking hot.“ 

He dropped his mouth to Ryan’s back, pressing hot and open-mouthed against the skin there, and Ryan’s hips jerked under him. He traced his mouth across Ryan’s back, sucking marks there in between the ones that already existed, and he felt Ryan losing it under him, his body tensing as he got closer to the edge. Ray jerked himself faster, harder, suddenly absurdly wanting to beat him there, to come all over Ryan with him still shaking and desperate under him, and Ryan seemed to be holding out for the same thing, pressing his face to the pillow and arching his hips up off the bed, not enough to move Ray, just enough to feel the weight of his body against him.

Ray was still kissing Ryan’s back as he came, muffling a sharp sound against his skin, and Ryan followed almost immediately, his fingers curling into the sheets as his other hand worked himself under his body.

He went slack under Ray, his limbs sinking heavily into the bed, and Ray stayed on top of him for a few more moments, lifting his head but letting his hand run over Ryan’s back, tracing down to his side so lightly that Ryan squirmed, chuckling hoarsely.

“Hey,” he objected, and Ray rolled off him, grinning.

“Nah, not sorry,” he said, and Ryan gave him a sleepy indulgent smile, face mashed into the pillow.

Ray rolled off the bed and started pulling on his pants, and Ryan made a low objecting noise, but Ray waved a hand at him.

“No way, asshole. You made the wet spot, you are absolutely sleeping in it.”

Ryan laughed quietly, but nodded his assent. He didn’t offer for Ray to stay too, because that’s not how they did things, but the comfortable way he stayed stretched out naked on the bed wasn’t really how they did things either, and Ray found he couldn’t regret that. In fact, he was already planning out the next time he got Ryan like this, spread out under him, losing himself in the feeling of Ray pressing him into the bed.

“‘Night,” Ryan mumbled into the pillow, and Ray hit the light.

“Yeah, I’ll get right back to what I was doing before some asshole barged in here and woke me the fuck up.”

Ryan waved a hand at him in the darkness. “Nah,” he said, “not sorry,” and was probably asleep before Ray even made it to the couch.


	21. half an hour before sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan, mention of Geoff/Jack

Jack woke alone in the darkness, and tossed and turned for too long before she gave up and padded out into the apartment in her bathrobe and Geoff's slippers. The hallway was quiet, and no one was sleeping on the couch, for once. All the bedroom doors were shut, and she poured herself a cup of yesterday's coffee before climbing out onto the fire escape.

She was halfway up the ladder to the roof when Ryan's mask appeared, peering down at her, and she let out a strangled yelp of surprise, the mug nearly slipping from her fingers. "For fuck's sake, Ryan!" she said, hauling herself up next to him, and he looked at her, unrepentant.

"You're up early," he said.

"You're up late," she countered. He was still in his clothes from the day before, his mask slightly askew, coat smeared with dust and grime. "Long night?"

"You could say that."

"Could have called," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "It wasn't anything exciting. Just some business I had to take care of. I thought you might be busy, anyway, with Geoff out of town."

She gave him a look. "Are you kidding me?" she asked. "He's always telling us not to have any fun without him." 

"Yeah, but you don't _listen_ to him," Ryan pointed out. 

"Not usually, no."

Ryan stretched out beside her, falling quiet, and they watched lights slowly flickering to life in the city's windows for a few minutes before she said carefully, "He said he talked to you, before he left."

"He did." Ryan shifted. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but like I told him, I have no interest in becoming another tenant in Ramsey's Home for Wayward Felons."

"No?" Jack asked. "I've got to say, you showing up to watch the sunrise on our roof instead of going home after whatever the hell kind of night you had says something a little different."

Ryan shrugged. "Your view's phenomenal," he said. "If I'd known you were going to be up here – "

Jack looked over at him. "What? You'd have found some other roof to sit on? Gee, thanks," she said.

He breathed out a quiet laugh. "You know what I mean."

"No, I get it," she said, her voice light and teasing, "the enigmatic Ryan Whatever-your-name-is is too busy being mysterious and brooding to hang out with us common folk."

" _Brooding_?" he repeated. "That's…not the word I'd go with." He nudged her leg with his, and the casual contact was a surprise, something she would expect from Gavin or Michael, but not from Ryan. "I don't mind the company. I just meant I figured you'd all still be asleep."

She shrugged. "I don't sleep as well when Geoff's not here." 

"Yeah," he said, and something about his tone sounded almost wistful. It made her want to press her leg back against his, lean against his side, and the thought of it reminded her of another conversation she'd been having not that long ago.

"You know," she said, a smile tugging at her lips, "Gavin's got this theory about you."

"Oh yeah?" he met her eyes. "This should be good."

"He thinks you're a secret cuddler." 

The words surprised a laugh out of him. " _What_?"

"I mean, you're a scary motherfucker and everything," Jack continued. "But Gavin's pretty sure that you give amazing hugs."

"Why would he - " Ryan began, and shook his head. "Is this something you guys go around _speculating_ about?"

Jack shrugged. "We speculate about everything, dude. I don't know if you've noticed, but this job affords us kind of a lot of downtime."

"Which you spend wondering if I give good hugs," Ryan replied.

"Sometimes."

"I mean," Ryan said, "he's not wrong."

Jack grinned. "Wait, really?"

Ryan shrugged and held up his hands as if to illustrate. "I'm a world champion hugger, you have no idea."

Jack peered at his eyes through the mask, and was pretty sure he was grinning at her. "See, I can't actually tell if you're fucking with me right now." 

"Only one way to find out."

"Right, the way that ends with me getting tossed off this roof if I’m wrong," she replied, but when he didn't look away from her as she shifted beside him, she tucked herself against his side and felt his arms go around her.

They were warm and solid, and she expected him to give her a quick squeeze and back away, laughing it off, but instead he seemed to relax against her, some of the tension draining out of him. She settled her head lightly on his shoulder and felt his breath rustle her hair as he let it out, long and slow. She meant to watch the sunrise like that, she really did, but he was warm and quiet, the touch of his skin against hers oddly reassuring, and she found her eyes drifting closed instead.

"Guess Gavin was right," she said quietly, eventually, and felt him breathe out a laugh. 

"Yeah," he agreed. "Don't tell him, would you? He'll be demanding hugs every thirty seconds."

She grinned. "Are you kidding?" she asked. "I am keeping this knowledge all to myself." She wrapped an arm around his waist, and didn't quite sleep, but they stayed there together for a long time, until the sun was high and bright above them.

It was only later that she thought to laugh at what a sight they would have made to anyone coming across them, Jack in her bathrobe and slippers, curled up comfortably against Ryan in his skull mask, his hands resting against her side in faintly bloodstained gloves.


	22. untitled - blindfold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Michael - inspired by [this photoset](http://thebeatneverleaves.tumblr.com/post/119049635795/horrificsmut-lets-play-a-game-called-reblog) \- NSFW

“Welcome back, boss.”

The room was dark, and Geoff leaned against the doorway, raising his eyebrows at the outline of Michael sitting at the end of his bed. "Hey, I’m not going to say I’m not flattered that you missed me like hell, but drinking alone in my room is a little sad, isn’t it?“

Michael shrugged. "Just waiting,” he said. "And this was just sitting here.“ He lifted the shot glass in his hand, holding it up to the light, and Geoff wasn’t sure if his mouth was watering at the thought of a drink or getting his hands on Michael. He stepped forward either way, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, and stopped dead a few feet into the room.

"Is that…one of my ties?” he asked.

“What, you think _I_ own a tie?” Michael made a face at him, his eyebrows scrunching over the blindfold. "Not fucking likely.“

” _Goddamn_ , Michael,“ Geoff breathed out, looking him over, relaxed and waiting at the edge of the bed, his fingers playing against the glass.

"Yeah?” Michael asked, looking smug. "This was just sitting here too.“ He reached up with his other hand to brush lightly over the fabric of the tie. "Good look?”

“You could say that,” Geoff replied. "So, are you gonna drink that, or…?“

"Why?” Michael asked. "You want it?“ He held his hand out and waited for the sound of Geoff stepping forward before he lifted it and grinned like an asshole. "Cheers, boss.” He tossed the shot back, and Geoff made a low noise at the motion of Michael’s throat as he swallowed. "Hey, don’t worry,“ Michael said, dropping the glass to the floor where it clinked against the bottle. He leaned to pick the bottle up, offering it to Geoff.

Geoff stepped forward to wrap his fingers around it, brushing against Michael’s, but he didn’t take the cap off quite yet. Instead, he reached to trace his fingers along the line of the tie, light and teasing against Michael’s face until his lips were dropping open, breath coming quicker. Then he leaned in, and kissed the taste of whiskey from his tongue.


	23. untitled - don't worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan

Ryan carefully folds Jack’s collar down over the tiny mic, patting it into place, and he lets his thumb brush over the skin of her neck as he pulls his hands away.

“Well?” she prompts, looking at him steadily, and she reaches down to smooth her clothes almost self-consciously. “What do you think? Convincing enough?”

“You look perfect.” He wants to kiss her, to smudge her lipstick and rumple her hair and clothes, to have any excuse to turn around and say _sorry, job’s off, she can’t go looking like this_ , so instead he backs away, keeping his hands to himself. "Jack,“ he says instead, turning to carefully arrange the items in his kit. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

She reaches out to click the case closed, narrowly missing his fingers. "Yes,“ she says, "I do.”

“Not alone, you don’t.”

“That’s the whole point of all of this, right?” she asks, tapping her earpiece. "I’m not alone.“

"Look…”

“Ryan.” Her voice is solid, definitive. "I’m rigged up, right? Good to go?“

He nods wordlessly.

"I’m going.”

He doesn’t reach out to her, not wanting to hold on too tight, so she leans in instead, pressing her lips to his softly. "Stay with me, okay?“ she gestures to her ear again.

"You know I will be.”

She’s just barely out the door before his comm’s activating, buzzing to life with her voice, low and quiet. "Don’t worry about me,“ she says. 

He breathes out a laugh. "Sorry,” he says, “that’s kind of what Geoff pays me for.”

“Ryan,” she says again, “don’t _worry_ about me. Just be in it with me, okay?”

He nods, opening his computer and pulling up the security feeds, watching her walk away from him. "I’m here, Jack,“ he assures her, and sees her lips twist into a tiny confidential smile onscreen.


	24. untitled - terrified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan

It happened between one job and the next, on an unremarkable stretch of road, with the windows open and Jack’s laughter ringing out above the sirens as she steered them expertly through streets she could have driven blindfolded.

One second Ryan was leaning out the window with his gun, situation all fucked up but fairly normal, and the next he was back in his seat, looking at her and feeling like the world was dropping out from under him.

“You good?” she prompted.

“Yeah,” he breathed out instead of saying, _I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified._


	25. a door key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael/Gavin

"Ray?" 

The apartment was dark and quiet, and Michael was just beginning to believe he'd imagined the noise when it came again. He grabbed the gun from his bedside table, swinging his feet down to the floor and into his shoes, sitting there ready and waiting. "I swear to god, Ray, if that's you," he muttered under his breath, and crept towards the door, pressing himself against the frame and peering around it. There was a figure silhouetted against his balcony door, and he raised the gun towards them.

"Hey asshole – " he began, but the figure tossed up his hands in surrender, making a familiar alarmed noise, and Michael let the gun drop at once, cursing.

" _Fuck_ , Gavin!" he yelled, reaching for the light switch and turning it on, almost enjoying the way Gavin flinched and shielded his eyes from the light. 

"Hi, Michael," he said, like he hadn't just almost scared the shit out of him, and Michael set the gun aside, glaring at him.

"You're lucky I didn't shoot you right through your stupid nose," he muttered.

"You got your own place!" Gavin said, completely ignoring Michael's words. He tossed himself onto the sofa, all elbows and unharnessed energy. "It's…" He looked around. "Well, it's a place, isn't it?"

"It's a piece of shit, yeah, you can say it," Michael told him. "Geoff's been trying to get me to move back in since I left. It's just…well, _you_ know. Can only live off a guy for so long, right?"

Gavin looked confused. "What?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Never mind, what am I saying? Of course you don't know." He grabbed two beers from the fridge and flopped down next to Gavin, handing one over. "We took care of Sal's guys while you were away. Most of them went into the bay, and the others…I don't know, Geoff made some kind of deal, I think. Said they won't be giving me any more trouble, though, so I moved the hell out." He eyed Gavin. "Which you already knew, if you showed up here."

"Ray," Gavin said succinctly.

"Figured. How's Burnie?"

Gavin shrugged. "Fine, now that the trouble with the shipping routes has been taken care with."

"Yeah? You offer him the same kind of fine service you give us? Dropping tanks off cliffs, accidentally throwing grenades at your teammates, stuff like that?"

"Pretty much." Gavin took a sip of his beer.

Michael eyed his balcony. "How'd you get in here, anyway? I definitely checked that there weren't any convenient fire escapes."

"Well, no," Gavin said, "it wasn't _convenient_. But it _was_ possible!" Michael sighed, and Gavin eyed him with something like concern. "It doesn't seem very safe, Michael. Maybe you should think about coming back to Geoff's. I'm back, now, so it wouldn't just be you and the old marrieds."

Michael laughed. "That's not why – " he began, but he couldn't quite say that it hadn't been a factor at all. Geoff and Jack had a routine, a system, and it had begun to comfortably include Michael and Gavin, since Gavin had gotten back from England, but with him away in San Andreas, things had started to take a turn for the awkward, and Michael had jumped at the out that Sal's men had given him. "I don't know," he said instead. "Maybe."

Gavin beamed. "I've missed you, Michael," he declared, flopping sideways to lean against him, and Michael pushed him off, laughing. "You're so far away, here! Who will I get to play Peggle with me in the middle of the night when I can't sleep?"

"Geoff?" Michael suggested. 

Gavin gave him a withering look. "Geoff is dangerous when you wake him up," he pointed out.

"Oh, and I'm not?" Michael all but growled, but Gavin didn't even bother to look intimidated.

"No," he said, "just grumpy." He tilted against him harder. "Like now." He reached out to ruffle Michael's hair, and Michael ducked away, swatting at his hand. "You can go back to bed, you know. I wasn't going to wake you up, I just wanted to see your new flat."

"That's creepy as fuck," Michael told him.

Gavin shrugged unrepentantly. "I'd tell you to look into that fire escape situation, but then how would I get in?"

"Oh, I don't know, call me to let you in like a normal person?" Gavin made a face, and Michael sighed. He reached to grab his keys from the coffee table, and grumbled as he pulled one off the ring. "Here," he said sharply, "just take the fucking spare, okay. Don't break your face trying to parkour your way into my building."

Gavin beamed at him. "Thanks, boi!"

"Yeah, fuck off," Michael muttered. "I'm going back to bed." He pushed Gavin off him and stood, and Gavin bounced to his feet.

"I give it a week until you're back at Geoff's," he said self-assuredly.

"I'm paid up through the end of the month," Michael pointed out.

"Two weeks, then. This place really is minging."

Michael sighed. "It is, isn't it?"

Gavin leaned into his space, his hair tickling the side of Michael's face, as he said, "Come home, little Michael."

Michael pushed him toward the door. "Get out of here," he muttered, but he was grinning as Gavin let himself out and waved cheerfully with the hand still holding his key as he shut the door behind him.


	26. long drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack

Geoff's phone rang a few hours out of the city, and Jack's hand darted out to grab it from him before he could answer it.

"Are you dying?" she demanded, tucking it against her shoulder as she steered them around a dangerous curve, and Gavin's voice on the other end was unintelligible but defensive. "I don't care, Gavin. What part of 'off the clock' failed to sink in with you?" He said something else, and she sighed deeply. "Look, the keys are in my bedside table, okay, but _you can't drive it_. Ryan is the only one who – " she paused. "Gavin? _Gavin_?" She cursed and hung up, tossing the phone back across the car at Geoff. 

"So, that's gonna end well," he guessed.

"Two days," she muttered. "I try to get us out of town for _two days_ , and they pull this shit."

He reached out to sink his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck, scratching his nails lightly over her skin. "Hey," he said. "There's like an 87% chance the city will still be standing when we get back, okay?"

"Thanks, boss," she said dryly, but when she ducked away from his hand, there was a thin smile pulling at her lips.

They drove in relative quiet for a while after that, until he turned up the radio and started to sing along off-key. "Are we there yet?" he fake-whined eventually, and Jack breathed out a laugh.

"Don't make me turn this car around!" she threatened.

He grinned at her. "You wouldn't. You're way more invested in this vacation thing than I am."

"Yeah," she said, a little wistfully. "Guess that's true."

"Hey." She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and he let a hand drop to her leg. "I'm not _not_ invested."

She laughed. "Ringing endorsement, there," she said dryly, but grinned at him. "And yes, we _are_ almost there."

"Good, 'cause I have to piss like a motherfucker."

"Hot," Jack replied. "I mean, I can pull over here…" 

Geoff peered out the window at the snow lightly falling along the side of the road. "I think I'll wait." He gave a put-upon sigh. "You know, when you mentioned getting away for a few days, I was kind of hoping for beaches or something."

"We go to the beach all the time at home."

"Yeah, but beaches _without the lads_ , Jack," Geoff said earnestly.

"You raise a compelling argument," she admitted. "Maybe next time. This time, there's a fully-stocked bar and a Jacuzzi," she offered, "so I think you'll be fine."

Geoff let his head tilt back against the seat, letting out an obscene noise at the thought of dropping down into a hot tub, drink in his hand, Jack stretched out next to him, snow falling outside the window. "Okay," he allowed, " _now_ I'm invested."

The driveway to the cabin was long and narrow, and by the time the light on the porch appeared ahead of them, the sun was setting. The snow crunched under their tires as Jack pulled up in front of the steps, and Geoff was out of the car and stretching before she had even put it in park. He leaned back against the car, popping his back, and Jack circled the car, opening the trunk but leaving everything in there, coming instead to join him, lean against his side.

"It is _fucking_ cold," he pointed out, in case she hadn't noticed, and she tipped her head, tugging the scarf off her neck and wrapping it lightly around his. 

"You're a fucking whiner," she replied, but leaned in to kiss him, snow falling lightly against their faces and melting there as she tucked herself against him, hands sliding up under his coat. "Come on," she said when she pulled away, and started dragging supplies from the trunk. "Let's get inside."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, and started pelting her with snowballs instead.


	27. useless, but beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack, Geoff/Michael, mention of Ryan/Ray and Gavin/Meg

"You," Michael declared, appearing at Geoff's side and replacing the empty cup in his hand with a new one, "are not nearly drunk enough."

Geoff chuckled. "I think you've got that covered for both of us," he said, but took an appreciative sip, just to see Michael beam at him. "I'm working on it."

Michael boosted himself onto the counter beside Geoff, looking smug and unbearably handsome, and Geoff leaned next to him, letting Michael's warm leg press against his side. "Done with the fireworks?"

"Jack's finishing up," Michael said. "She sent me in for drinks. Man, you are not gonna want to miss this, boss. We are going to put on a fucking _show_ for you."

"For me?" Geoff grinned at him. "That's sweet, but you shouldn't have." Michael rolled his eyes, but Geoff didn't miss his cheeks coloring faintly. He nodded through the crowd, toward the main entrance to the Fort. "Ray take off already?"

"Yeah." Michael shrugged. "I'm surprised we got him to come out at all."

"I'm sure he'll be very happy ringing in the new year with – what is he even playing these days?"

Michael shrugged. "Everything?" he offered. He shifted beside Geoff, though, and when Geoff looked over at him, he had his _there's something I'm not telling you_ face on.

"What?" Geoff asked. Michael shook his head. " _What_?" Geoff insisted, and Michael shrugged.

"I'm just saying, I think Ray is going to have _plenty_ of fun tonight."

Geoff raised his eyebrows. "Wait, like, with a person? An actual person in the real world?"

"I mean. That's kind of debatable? But yeah, I guess so." Geoff knew perfectly well how to wait out Michael's gossiping habit, so he took a slow sip from his drink, letting his eyes travel over the party, waving at Griffon where she was holding court by the door, finding Gavin sprawled out on the arm of a couch, laughing hysterically with Meg over something he was showing her on his phone, and Michael finally sighed and burst out with, "Okay, _maybe_ I recognized the car that picked him up, all right?"

"What you're saying here," Geoff said, "is that Ray ditched us to go fuck Ryan."

"That's what I'm saying, yeah," Michael agreed, and Geoff let out a delighted laugh.

"Do you think they think they're being sneaky?"

"Oh god, I hope not. I mean, if this is their version of sneaky, we are all fucked hardcore." Geoff let the statement sit there between them for a moment, his lips curling up, and Michael rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the side as he said, "Yeah, okay, just like Ray is, you're fucking hilarious."

Geoff grinned at him. "Hey, you're the one who said it." He waved toward the door, where Jack had appeared, looking in their direction impatiently. "I think you're being summoned." He poured each of them another drink, handing Michael's to him as he slid down from the counter, and carried Jack's across the room to her, greeting her at the door with a kiss to her cheek. She leaned into it a little and let her fingers brush his as she took her drink, and gave Michael a big grin.

"You want to take point on this one?"

"Hell _yeah_." His face lit up. "You don't want to set them off?"

"Nah, go for it, kid," Jack said. She led Geoff outside with a hand on his waist. "It's your first Los Santos new year. Fucking blow some shit up." Michael gave her a solemn fistbump and disappeared, and Geoff looked over at Jack.

"Shit, it _is_ , isn't it?"

She nodded. "He was saying before how he should have expected Griffon to throw such a great party, and it hadn't really hit me that he hadn't been to one of hers before, you know? He showed up after last year's."

"Feels like forfuckingever ago," Geoff muttered, and Jack laughed.

"Please," she said. "He had you wrapped around his finger within a month."

"Nah, fuck that," Geoff said, but as the first explosion burst in the sky, he couldn't keep from grinning. He'd stayed with Jack during last year's party, stretching out on the ground and watching her work while she lit off her carefully planned fireworks display, and afterward she'd sprawled out on top of him, the two of them making out like fucking teenagers while the sounds of the party picked up again nearby. Gavin had still been long gone at that point, maybe never coming back, Ray and Ryan had just been occasional hired guns on their payroll, and Michael had laughed off Geoff's initial offer of employment months before. "Not a bad year, huh?"

Jack shrugged. "We've had worse," she said casually, but he could feel her grin against his neck as she leaned against him. He let his head tip back, taking a long drink and watching the sky light up, and when Jack leaned in to press their mouths together, he could still see the echo of changing colors against his eyelids.

"Happy new year, boss," she said quietly when she pulled away.

"Fuck yeah, it is," he agreed, and tugged her closer to kiss her again.


	28. untitled - jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack/Ryan

Geoff’s only halfway watching the movie by the time his phone buzzes in his pocket, most of his attention caught by the way Jack is tucked up against Ryan, snoring lightly on his shoulder, her hand splayed palm-up on his lap. 

He pushes himself off the couch and ducks into the hallway to answer, his voice going high as he demands, “You did what?”

He’s sighing as he comes back into the room, and he can tell by the tilt of Ryan's head that he's smiling. “What’d Gavin do?” he asks, and Geoff huffs as he grabs his shoes.

“Fucking lost his car in a poker game.”

“You want me to go get him?”

Geoff looks pointedly down at Jack, who hasn’t budged. “If you wake her up,” he says, “I’m gonna fucking murder you.”

Ryan looks down almost fondly, and brushes his fingers through Jack’s hair. "Yeah,“ he agrees quietly, and turns his attention back to the movie. “Good luck, then.” Geoff’s almost to the door when he adds absently, “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”

Geoff blinks, pauses, and turns around. It’s something he’d expect Jack to say, or himself to tell one of the lads, running off half-cocked into something, but it sounds completely absurd coming out of Ryan’s mouth. "I do actually own some jackets, Ryan.“

Ryan looks up at him, sounding almost defensive as he replies, "Have you been out there? Mine’s warmer.”

“We live in Los Santos,” Geoff grumbles, “how cold could it be?” But he takes Ryan’s coat from the hook on the door, shrugging it on over his shoulders. It’s not as absurdly large on him as it would be on Gavin, or Ray, but the sleeves are too long, coming down over his fingers, and the shoulders feel oddly bulky. It’s comfortable, though, and when he turns to pointedly show himself off to Ryan, he catches his reflection in the window and is struck by the strangeness of it, the mismatched image of Ramsey the Vagabond.

“Looks good,” Ryan says, his voice unusually low, and something about the way his eyes rake over Geoff's body makes Geoff imagine him ducking out from under Geoff, crossing the room, pressing Geoff up against the wall, kissing him hard and possessive. "Have fun,“ he adds. "Tell Gav he’s a dumbass.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” Geoff says. He takes another look at himself, already imagining the way Gavin’s face is going to melt from pissed off at losing to deeply amused at the sight of him, and gives Ryan a wave. "You’ll be here when I get back, right?“

Ryan leans against the top of Jack’s head, looking deeply content. "Not going anywhere,” he says quietly, and there was a time when Geoff might have made a joke about that, might have doubted it even if he said nothing to Ryan, but looking at him now, curled up with Jack as Geoff stands there in the doorway with Ryan’s jacket around his shoulders, he just nods, and turns for the door.


	29. get some sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Ryan, mention of Geoff/Jack

"None of you can just sleep like normal human beings, can you?"

Geoff couldn’t quite see the way Ryan raised an amused eyebrow at him, but it was apparent in the deceptively lazy tilt of his head against the wall. ”Sorry, were you looking for normal human beings?” he asked. “You might have hired the wrong crew.” He settled his gun comfortably against his leg and nodded towards the city in front of them. ”No excitement yet. Care to join me?”

Geoff sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down it to sit beside Ryan, setting his bottle of whiskey between them like an offering. ”Correct me if I’m wrong, here, but I’m pretty sure you had a hand in designing the security system I’ve got on this place.”

Ryan was silent for a moment. ”You’re not wrong,” he finally agreed.

"You don’t trust your own work?"

"I don’t trust much," Ryan replied easily. "And neither do you, or you wouldn’t have survived this long." He gestured inside. "No one else sleeping either?"

Geoff tipped the bottle towards him, but Ryan shook his head. Geoff gave him a _your loss_ shrug and took a swig. ”Michael,” he said. ”And Jack, I think.” 

"Sounds about right."

Gavin slept like he did everything else, quick and unpredictable, driving himself to exhaustion on adrenaline and Red Bull and then crashing in the middle of a sentence, his words trailing off, eyes going soft and heavy. Ray stayed up until all hours playing games, and when he did sleep, it was on the couch more often than not, all elbows and uncertainty about where to keep his hands while Michael sprawled against him, dead to the world and grumbling quietly. Jack slept more or less regularly, and didn’t really wake up until her third cup of coffee, but there would always be a few weeks a year when she would wake reaching frantically for the nearest weapon, and greet Geoff in the morning with haunted eyes.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen Ryan sleep.

"What about you?" Ryan asked eventually. "Do you really get to judge our sleeping habits if you’re the one wandering out onto the balcony at three in the morning?"

"Sure," Geoff replied. "You’re in my house, I get to judge your everything. Your sleeping, and your cars, and your stupid hair."

Ryan laughed, the sound low and muffled behind the mask. ”Have you ever even seen my hair?”

"No, but I’m absolutely positive it’s stupid." They fell silent for a few moments as sirens wailed to the east, and Geoff tipped his head to look over at Ryan. "You know, we didn’t hire you as a security detail."

"I know," Ryan replied automatically. 

"I’m saying, you’re here for a lot of reasons, and not one of them requires you to stay up all night waiting for - " he waved a hand at the city. "You know. Doom to befall us or whatever." He stuffed the whiskey bottle into Ryan’s hands. "Do us all a favor and go the fuck to sleep, would you?"

Ryan blinked up at him. ”You’re not sleeping because I’m not sleeping,” he said carefully.

"Bullshit," Geoff replied, but he could see the wheels turning as Ryan looked at him, as the faint hints of a smile started to appear around his eyes.

"So is it that you’re worried _of_ me or _for_ me?” he asked. ”Think I’m going to take out you and your guys in your sleep, or afraid I’m going to stay up too long and snap?”

Geoff shrugged. ”Why’s it got to be one or the other? I can’t believe you capable of both?”

"That’s the kind of faith I like to see you having in your men," Ryan replied. He set the bottle aside and stood, stretching. He looked down at Geoff, hesitating a moment, then offered him a hand up. Geoff almost didn’t take it, but all of a sudden he was bone tired, leaning there against the wall, looking up at Ryan standing over him, so he reached up to clasp his arm and haul himself to his feet unsteadily. Ryan gave him a light push towards the door, and a month ago, a week ago, it would have had Geoff snapping back to attention, turning on him and shoving him back. But tonight, with the sounds of the city behind them and the quiet house waiting, he let Ryan nudge him through the door without any protest. 

Ray and Michael were asleep on the couch, Michael snoring quietly, Gavin curled up on the armchair beside them staring at his laptop with glazed eyes. Geoff ruffled his hair on the way past to his bedroom, and Gavin tipped his head back into his touch easily and familiarly. 

"Night," he said quietly, and there was a part of Geoff that wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and drag him off to bed with him, wrap himself around him until Gavin stilled and closed his eyes, but there was something determined about the way he turned back to his screen, so Geoff left him there in the dark room with Ray and Michael sleeping on beside him.

Ryan paused in the hallway outside his door, and Geoff thought he was going to say something, but instead he dropped his head and pulled the mask off in one smooth motion. He looked back at Geoff almost hesitantly, and Geoff suddenly found himself wondering if he was the last one to see this, to get a tiny almost-smile from the unmasked face of the man behind the Mad King.

"Yeah," Geoff said, his voice hoarse and quiet in the dark hallway. "I was right. Your hair’s fucking stupid."

Ryan’s answering chuckle was surprisingly warm. ”Yeah, okay, talk to me when you shave the mustache,” he advised, opening the door to his room. 

"Never!" Geoff replied indignantly.

"Mmhm." Ryan stuffed the mask into his back pocket and looked at him skeptically.

"It’s iconic," Geoff pointed out. He gestured toward the mask. " _You_ should understand.”

“ _I_ don’t look like a cartoon villain when I don’t want to,” Ryan pointed out. ”All you need is a cat to pet while you outline your dastardly schemes.”

"Pretty great, isn’t it?" Geoff asked brightly, and Ryan breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Go to bed," he said dismissively, and Geoff wanted to object, to point out that he was the one who gave the orders around here, but it actually sounded like a damn good suggestion, so he just nodded and watched Ryan disappear into his room and close the door.

"So what do you think?" Jack asked from the end of the hall, leaning against the doorframe of Geoff’s room. She was in pajamas, her hair hanging limply into her face, and she yawned widely as he made his way towards her. "Is he actually going to sleep in there, or just power down like a robot?"

"Still unclear," Geoff replied. 

"I can _hear_ you, you know,” Ryan’s voice called from his room, and Geoff of the not too distant past would have felt a twinge of concern at the way Jack laughed fondly at him in reply.

"Power down function needs work, I see," she called back, and reached for Geoff, dragging him into the bedroom and shutting the door behind them. 

He curled against her in the bed, sheets still warm from her sleeping in them, and he closed his eyes, listening to the noise of his city outside the window, and the comfortable silence of his team around him. His last thought before drifting off was to wonder if Ryan was sitting awake on the other side of the wall, watching the city from a window instead of a balcony.


	30. untitled - wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff & Ryan, mention of Geoff/Jack and Geoff/Gavin

“Okay,” Geoff said aloud. "We’re done now.“

Ryan stayed quiet on the bed, eyes closed, breath even.

“Game over.” Geoff set his glass down, marking a wet ring into the top of the book Jack had abandoned on the table beside him. "You win, okay? Just, fucking – “ he rubbed a hand over his eyes and leaned heavily against the table. "You need to wake up.”

It was something he’d expect to say to Jack, to Gavin, but here he was, and there was Ryan, and “You need to wake up,” he repeated, “because I can’t do this without you.”


	31. untitled - 69%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gavin

“I like you less,” Jack said, “every time you smash up one of my cars.”

“Nah,” Gavin said, slinging himself onto the back of her bike and wrapping his arms around her. "You like me 100%.“

She snorted. "You’re lucky if you’re at twenty.”

She could practically hear him pouting. " _Jack.“_

 _”Gavin_. Stop wrecking my shit.“

“Sixty,” he decided. "You like me at least 60%.“ She looked stoically ahead at the road until she felt his lips warm against her neck. "Sixty-three.” He kissed her again. "Sixty-seven.“

“If you get to 69,” she warned, “I’m tossing you off this bike."


	32. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan

She’s there when he opens his eyes.

She’s there again, the next time he opens his eyes, and she has a mug in her hand, a book propped on her lap, a tired smile as she looks up to find him watching. 

“Hi there,” she says, and Ryan thinks he manages to smile back before he drifts off again.

The third time, she’s talking, and he lies there quietly with his eyes closed for a long time before he realizes she’s reading, and when he finally squints around the room, he realizes they’re alone, and she’s reading to him. "I…wasn’t really following that,“ he admits, and she only startles a little, dropping the book into her lap and looking up at him, her surprise melting into a fond smile.

“Yeah, I was mostly entertaining myself,” she replies, but flips back to the beginning of the chapter before continuing.

He listens, and closes his eyes, and when she finally trails off with a “…and I think you’re asleep now,” he peeks at her again, shaking his head. 

“I’m not,” he says, “but you can give your voice a rest, if you want.”

They sit there quietly for a while, until he starts remembering all the questions he hasn’t had the brainpower to ask, starts trying to form them, and she lets her hand drop over his at the edge of the bed, and answers, “Everyone’s fine. We can deal with the rest of it later.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. "Okay,“ and he closes his eyes again.

The next time he wakes up, it’s dark, night, and he can’t tell if he’s alone, but he feels alone, and he tries to sit up, reaching out.

“Jack?” he asks into the darkness, and her hands are there instantly, pressing against his chest, lightly pushing him back into the bed.

“I’m here,” she says, settling onto the edge of the bed beside him. "It’s okay.“

He lets a hand reach up to cup her face, needing to trace the lines of it, feel her hair falling familiarly against the back of his fingers. "Hi,” he says, and when he pulls her down to kiss him, it’s light and careful, but with an edge of desperation, her fingers curling tightly into his shirt.

“I’m here,” he says when she pulls away, “it’s okay,” and she curls over and rests her head on his shoulder, his fingers carding through her hair reassuringly, the only kind of promise he can offer right now.


	33. ask questions later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan/Gavin, mention of Gavin/Geoff, Ray/Ryan, Michael/Gavin, Jack/Geoff, Jack/Gavin - NSFW

"Ryan." Gavin's voice was warm against his neck, his body pressed tight to Ryan's in the trunk as Michael snuck them onto the military base. "I want to kiss you, Ryan."

Ryan breathed out a laugh, but his fingers tightened around Gavin's waist where he was holding him steady as Michael hit a row of speed bumps. "Jesus, Gavin," he said, his voice muffled by the mask. "Your timing fucking sucks."

"Not _here_ ," Gavin said, as if it were obvious. "It's just, I've been thinking about it, right? I've kissed Geoff – " he squirmed against Ryan a little, and Ryan couldn't quite tell, but he was pretty sure Gavin was actually ticking these off on his fingers, "and I haven't kissed Ray, but you have – a _lot_ – and I've kissed Michael, of course, because he's my boy, and…well, not Jack. Not really. I mean, we've _kissed_ , like a peck a couple of times when we're bevved up, but not like proper snogging, so I'm not sure that counts. But she's kissed Geoff enough by now that I must have by proxy, right? Is there a point when that happens?"

" _Gavin_ ," Ryan interrupted. "Not that this isn't all fascinating and everything, but it doesn't explain – "

"I saw you and Ray."

Ryan closed his eyes behind his mask, wishing he wasn't already lying on the floor of the car, so he could thunk his head back against it. "Yeah," he said. "I know. It's not like it was a secret or anything."

"No, but – " Gavin fell quiet for a moment, his breath unsteady against Ryan's skin, and Ryan thought back to what Gavin had walked in on, his hands pressing Ray up against the side of one of the cars in the garage, both of them too frantic to even make it into the apartment, his fingers tight against the strip of skin at Ray's waist, the same way they were against Gavin's now –

It was suddenly too hot in the trunk, in his mask, his thick jacket, with Gavin's body touching his all the way down, and it was almost a relief when Michael's voice crackled to life over the comm. 

"Package has been delivered, boss."

"Go time," Geoff replied, and the trunk popped open. 

Ryan all but shoved Gavin off of him, Gavin springing lightly out of the trunk, already drawing his gun and dropping into formation behind Michael, and Ryan followed, slamming the car shut behind him with more force than was necessary.

It was late that night before they got a moment alone again, after the job was completed and everyone was winding down in their own ways – Geoff and Jack on the roof with a bottle, Michael and Ray getting progressively louder on the couch over a game, and Ryan had retreated to his room, bent over his computer, when he heard a soft knock on the doorframe.

"Can I – " Gavin said almost hesitantly, and Ryan waved him in, setting his computer and his glasses aside. He stood, crossing the room and not quite stepping around Gavin to close the door. Instead, he reached past him, stepping into Gavin's space, and Gavin's breath caught audibly.

"I thought," Ryan said quietly, "that you had to get drunk to proposition people."

"Well, it wasn't quite propositioning, though, was it?" Gavin asked. "Not properly. I'm not looking for you to wank me off or anything, I was just asking for a bit of a snog."

"Oh," Ryan said in a low voice, "is that all you were looking for?" He remembered the force of his hands against Ray's skin, the way Gavin's eyes had gone wide with surprise, but then with interest, before he had fled.

"Well – " Gavin began.

"Just kissing," Ryan continued. "I can do that, see. If that's what you want. I can do that for fucking _hours_." He stepped forward, backing Gavin against the door, and Gavin swallowed, looking up at him. "I can just – " he leaned in to kiss Gavin lightly with a quick tease of teeth against his lips, and pulled away. "Keep my hands to myself." He planted them on the door, on either side of Gavin's head, and leaned in again. This kiss was deeper, longer, leaving them both breathless, and when he backed up this time, Gavin's hand reached up, curling around the back of his neck.

"Or you could not to that," he suggested, and Ryan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Or," he agreed, "I could not do that. Which one would you prefer?"

" _Ry_ an," Gavin practically whined, and Ryan grinned.

"Well, that's not much of an answer, is it?" he asked. He leaned in to kiss Gavin some more, and this time, Gavin's hands shot up, his fingers wrapping around Ryan's wrists, dragging them down his body to his hips. Ryan grinned against his mouth, tightening them there, and felt Gavin practically melt under him. "Okay," he allowed eventually, " _that's_ an answer." 

He lost track of how long they kissed like that, Ryan's hands rough and tight against Gavin's skin, first there against the door, and then on the bed, Ryan kneeling over him, pressing him down until Gavin was writhing under him, gasping, practically begging Ryan to touch him. Instead, Ryan just smiled down at him lazily, kissing him some more, and when Gavin was an incoherent mess against the sheets, he finally moved to kneel with a leg between Gavin's, giving him something to thrust up against until he came in his pants.

"You are fucking _evil_ ," Gavin gasped afterwards, curling into a ball against Ryan's pillows as Ryan ran a hand over his back, slow and light, in direct contrast to the way he'd held him before, the bruises already starting to fade into view above the waistband of his pants, and Ryan grinned.

"It's like you're surprised by that, or something," he said.

Gavin grumbled an answer into the pillow and closed his eyes, and Ryan took a moment to enjoy the way he'd gone still and quiet beside him. He traced lazy patterns over Gavin's back through his shirt until Gavin rolled over, looking at him.

"Hey," he said. "Don't you want – " he reached for Ryan, but Ryan shook his head, taking Gavin's wrist lightly.

"Nah," he said. "You've fucking worn me out." He'd managed to chill himself out as well, lying there and touching Gavin slowly and lightly, and all he wanted now was to close his eyes and drift off. At Gavin's disappointed look, he added, "Next time?"

Gavin's face lit up. "Yeah?" he asked.

Ryan raised a shoulder in a shrug. "If you want, yeah."

"Oh, I want." Gavin rolled off the bed, narrowly missing taking Ryan's lamp with him. "Fine," he said, "go to sleep, old man. Maybe next time _I'll_ be a horrible tease, and see how you like it."

"Yeah, okay," Ryan said dryly, "that'll happen," but he couldn't help but be intrigued by the thought, Gavin working him over with his quick fingers, pulling back too soon, ramping him up until all he wanted in the world was to reach for Gavin, flip him over on the bed, and get them both off.

Gavin was almost to the door before he turned back, practically darting to the side of the bed and leaning in to kiss Ryan once more, deep and quick and dirty, and then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him so loudly that Michael yelled from the living room, "Jesus, Gavin, fucking break the whole place, why don't you?"

Ryan laughed quietly to himself, but it quickly turned into a groan, rolling over to press his face into the pillow. It was bad enough that he and Ray hadn't been able to stop since that first time that Ray had dropped to his knees in front of him, and Ryan had let him. They had kept going like that, each life and death scenario turning into something they worked out later on each other. But now it was Gavin, too, and Ryan knew that he hadn't gotten nearly enough of making him writhe under him, desperate and pleading.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, and reached down to wrap a hand around himself. He came to the thought of heated skin against his, a mouth hot and demanding at his neck, hands gripping him so tightly they were leaving marks, and he wasn't sure if the person he was picturing was Ray, Gavin, or someone else entirely.


	34. five minutes away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack & Joel H, mention of FAHC OT6 and Joel H/Adam E

"Okay, but, I mean, I get you and Geoff." Joel tipped back in his chair so far that Jack was pretty sure he was defying at least a few laws of physics by staying upright. "Well, I'm not saying I _get_ it or anything, but…I get it. I guess. Maybe. But how do you even – " he waved a hand around. "It's not even a point A to point B thing, right? It's like, point A to point 63983. It's just not… _how_?"

"Sex," Jack offered simply, and Joel made an expressively disgusted face at her. "Sometimes when six criminals love each other very much – "

"Ahp!" he interrupted, holding up a finger. "No. No, no, no, nope, uh uh, I do _not_ want to know."

"Then why are you asking?" 

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "Because I'm _drunk_ , Jack. And your life is completely baffling to me, and I don't like to be baffled!"

"Then don't be," she suggested. "It's not really that complicated." He made a vaguely tragic incoherent noise, and she laughed at him, signaling at the bartender for another round. "You're looking for the tipping point," she clarified. 

" _Yes_. How does that even – _why_?"

Most of them wouldn't have had an answer for him. For Geoff, it had been organic, gathering his people to him one by one, never questioning that it was exactly the right move. Michael had such a vast capacity for affection that it came naturally to him, extending his warmth and belligerent protectiveness to each of them like he never could have considered doing anything else. Ray was swept in by virtue of already being close to Michael, and by the way he and Ryan had found an outlet in each other nearly immediately. Gavin had returned into a fully formed situation that had sprung up in direct reaction to his absence, and taken his spot as their missing piece effortlessly. Ryan alone probably had a moment that he could look back on as a second of decision, of abrupt understanding, but Jack had a feeling she would never know what that moment had been.

For her, it was Gavin.

Jack had equally anticipated and dreaded his return, wanting him back for Geoff's sake, to see him smile and function in their everyday lives the way he would when he propped Gavin up on Skype in the corner of a room to talk through plans with him. It was a side of him she knew only through Gavin's presence, and when Gavin finally showed up at their door with a suitcase and a hesitant expression, she'd felt a rush of relief almost as strong as the crushing worry that everything she had become to Geoff was suddenly obsolete.

It didn't take long to realize that he had arrived expecting nothing but a job, a place to stay, and the intense and effortless friendship that he and Geoff fell back into. The first night he was back, when Jack hesitated outside Geoff's room ( _their_ room, for longer than they had ever slept apart since teaming up), Geoff's hand wrapped tightly into hers, tugging her to bed alongside him like a promise that nothing had changed.

And nothing did, for months, a year. Well, _everything_ changed – the city, and their lives, and the ways they tangled up tighter and tighter with each other, Ray and Ryan, Gavin and Michael, Ray and Michael, Jack and Ryan, Ryan and Gavin, Geoff and Michael and Jack – but the ways Geoff would touch Gavin were casual, friendly, and the jokes they would level at each other about their attractiveness and relative skill at sucking cock were nothing but the easy camaraderie of good friends with a complicated past.

It wasn't until later, after Meg, one of those nights when Gavin was restless and anxious and itching for something to do that he cornered Jack in the living room and said, "Let's go for a drive, yeah?" So she took shotgun while he whipped through the city with the windows open until he pulled into a spot by the Vinewood sign and killed the lights, climbing out onto the hood and cracking open a bottle, passing it to her when she joined him. 

"I guess I never said thanks," he said, almost grudgingly, and she wracked her brain trying to come up with the latest time she'd pulled his ass out of the fire, but then he continued, "for Geoff." She made a questioning noise, passing the bottle back. "He's all right on his own, but he does better with a team. He told me a little about how you happened to him, and, well." He waved a hand. "Thanks. It was one less thing to worry about, being over there, knowing he had someone – " he hesitated. "Well, he trusts you, doesn't he?"

 _He better_ , she wanted to say, or _not as much as he trusts you_ , but she just nodded. "Yeah," she said. "He does."

"Good." He gestured to the city with the bottle. "This is big, isn't it? What we're doing here."

"It's huge," Jack replied. "I know this city, Gavin. We're…this is big."

He grinned at her, wide and honest, and she couldn't help but return the smile, and when he started pointing out targets down below that he still wanted to hit, she curled up beside him, sharing his warmth and plotting out the best way to go about each of them.

They drove home in the quiet of the almost-early morning city, and when they padded into the apartment to see Geoff's door open and waiting at the end of the hall, Jack didn't even give Gavin a chance to peel off into his own room. Instead, she kept a hand firm against his back, propelling him in front of her until they were both there beside the bed, Geoff looking up at them through sleepy eyes. He made a noise of confusion at first, his voice breaking, and when Gavin knelt hesitantly at the edge of the bed, Geoff's eyes darted to Jack's for a moment before he reached for him, dragging him down and wrapping around him like he had been waiting years for this moment. Jack settled down into bed on his other side, and they fell asleep like that, the three of them tangled together beneath the sheets. 

That had been it, Jack's moment of decision, riding home with Gavin and watching the city lights curve by above her, knowing that in minutes she would be home in bed with Geoff pressed beside her and all of their boys around them.

" _Why_?" she repeated to Joel. "Because they're my guys, Joel. You said it yourself, it's not point A to point B, there's no defining moment."

He made a noise of frustration. "I've had guys," he said. "It's not like that."

"Well." She nudged his leg under the table. "Guess maybe you just haven't found the right ones. Speaking of, how's it going with Adam?" She leered at him suggestively, and he laughed, steering the conversation away on some other path before she could start prodding at him too much.

She let him change the subject, but later that night, she stood quietly in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe of Geoff's room for a moment, watching as he slept deeply with Gavin and Michael curled up against him. The walls were still faintly glowing with the dancing light of Ray's game in the living room as she let herself into Ryan's room, and he whispered, "Hi," quietly as she tucked herself in beside him.

Somehow, in that moment, it managed to not feel very complicated at all.


	35. untitled - first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gavin, Geoff/Jack/Gavin, mention of Geoff/Jack, Geoff/Gavin, Geoff/Jack/Michael - NSFW

He kissed her the next morning, slow and sleepy under the covers, stretching out into the space that Geoff had left between them to reach for her. She let herself fold against him easily, and shivered as he skimmed a hand down along her side, whispering, “lovely Jack,” against her lips. It was lazy and dreamlike, unreal somehow in the haze of sleep and sunrise, and she let herself get completely lost in the feeling of Gavin’s hands and mouth and body against her until Michael pushed open the door, calling, “So, are you two going to get out of bed _ever_ , or – ” and paused halfway into the room, surprise melting into a grin as Jack’s eyes blinked slowly open, peering at him over Gavin’s shoulder. "Um,“ he said. "Okay, then. Or it is.” He backed slowly out of the room, but not before flashing Gavin a quick thumbs up and mouthing yeah, boi.

Jack let her head drop to Gavin’s shoulder, the moment broken, and she could feel him laughing against her as he reached to smooth out her hair. He rolled away, breaking the contact as easily as it had started, and flung his legs out of the bed, stretching until his back popped. He circled the bed on his way out of the room, though, and leaned over to drop a quick press of his lips against hers. That in itself was familiar, grounding, something they’d done more than once or twice in a bar or pressed up against the side of a car when one or both of them was a little tipsy, a little too affectionate, and most times it would end in them breaking apart to find Geoff’s eyes on them, fond and interested.

She hadn’t considered Gavin much, like this, but when she had, it had always been with the expectation that it would be with Geoff, like it had with Michael, or at least _about_ him, in the same way all their earliest conversations had been, back when Gavin was newly returned and they were still learning how to exist in each other’s space. Instead, she suddenly started noticing all the things that had developed around just the two of them, the way he would settle in at the bar and mix them drinks, telling increasingly wild stories while she tried out some new recipe that was a disaster about 40% of the time. The way they had somehow developed something of a rhythm in the field, able to assess a situation and come up with an impromptu plan almost seamlessly (even if Gavin would usually find some way to botch the execution). The way she knew enough people in this city to know exactly where to show up with a pair of cars and a stack of cash when Gavin was antsy and restless, to lay down their money and tear through the city with the windows down, sirens coming to life behind them in the distance. It never mattered if they won or lost, those nights, because they’d come back home (separately if they were lucky, together if they weren’t, and on foot more times than either of them would like to admit) with windswept hair and easy grins, Gavin leaning comfortably against her side as they drank in celebration or consolation afterward.

They had become a unit, a team, in a different way than either of them was with Geoff, or he was with Michael, or she was with Ryan, but solid and important in its own way, and now when her eyes would meet his as he leapt into the gunner position in her chopper and beamed, she found herself suddenly wanting to know what it would feel like to get him in bed like that, all wired on adrenaline, knocking those stupid sunglasses off his face, undoing his shirt and sliding her hands in over his skin, his mouth and fingers frantic against her.

In the end, it wasn’t with Geoff, or about him. Gavin had come to her with a job he wanted to pull, a two-man operation, the kind of thing he used to pull with Dan, and she’d seen the possibilities in his plan, offered up a few tweaks to make it better, and they’d gone in at sunset with no backup.

It would have worked, probably, if their comms hadn’t fritzed out in the first thirty seconds, but as it was, they went in blind and out of contact with each other. Jack nailed her first two objectives, and was halfway through the third when the front of the store was abruptly engulfed in flames, and she was only able to grab a third of the cash before booking it out the back door, into an alley, and up onto a roof they had never planned on using. The trip back to the safehouse was endless, creeping over rooftops to keep from being seen by the cops or the people they’d ripped off, and she paused at each intersection to check for a glimpse of Gavin, any indication that he’d made it out alive.

There was a light on when she got there – it was Michael’s old place, a shitheap with no redeeming qualities except for the fact that it was held under a name that traced back to none of them – and she nearly felt faint with relief as she made her way up the fire escape and rapped sharply on the window. She could see Gavin in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter, head down, and he startled visibly at the sound, head jerking up and face going through a complicated series of expressions before he was bolting across the apartment to let her in.

She wasn’t even entirely through the window before his arms were around her, his face pressing to her neck, reaching behind her to slam the window shut and just standing there, shaking, his fingers tangling into the back of her shirt.

“Whoa, hey,” she said quietly, letting her arms go around him. "I’m not going to say that went great, but I’m _fine_ , Gav.“

"I thought you were still in there,” he said, his voice muffled against her collar.

“I was,” she said, “but I was in the back. Didn’t quite get the take you were looking for, but – ”

He made a muffled sound of frustration and pulled away. “Bugger the take,” he muttered. "That happens again, we don’t go in.“ He pulled out his earpiece and shook it fiercely like he thought that would help. 

"We’ll have to get Ryan to take a look at them,” she suggested. "I wonder if they’d set up some kind of jamming or if we just ran into – “ she broke off as he tossed the offending tech onto the counter, where it bounced against the wall and skidded to a stop beside the microwave. "Sure,” she agreed mildly, “or we could do that instead.”

He looked at her sharply, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You’re not mad at me,” he said, not quite a question.

She frowned. "At you? No, why would I be?“

He shrugged. "You usually are, when I bollocks everything up.”

“Sure, when you go off script and decide to, I don’t know, jump out of a chopper with no warning, or drive a tank into the middle of a sneak attack. This wasn’t that.” she shrugged. "We both made a bad call, going in blind. It worked out, though.“ She nudged her bag with her foot. "We’re both walking away, and we’re not empty handed.”

“Yeah.” His voice was a little unsteady, and when she met his eyes again, they were staring at her with something like resolve.

“Gavin – ” she began, but the rest of her words disappeared as his mouth crashed against hers, his body pressing to her, hands raking up her back. She kissed him back, letting her hands drop to his hips, holding him there steady against her, and there was a reasonable part of her mind that wanted to tell her that this wasn’t the time, that they were both too ramped up and frustrated, but this was them, their dumb decisions and their dangerous life, and it suddenly felt like there was nothing more perfect than the thought of fucking Gavin for the first time here on Michael’s ragged couch with them both so desperate to feel each other real and alive.

They kissed like that for a long time, standing in the middle of the room with the city going dark outside the window, and Gavin was breathing heavily by the time Jack pulled away and backed them toward the couch with her fingers tucked into his pockets, pulling him along with her. She flopped back onto the cushions invitingly, and he followed her lead immediately, without question, kneeling over her and cupping her face in his hands, tipping it to kiss her again, more deeply. She let her hands trail up his thighs over his pants, enjoying the way it made him shift restlessly over her. 

She broke the kiss, letting her lips trail down his neck, over to his ear, and said quietly, “Some time, when we have lube and a bed, I want to fuck you like this.” He groaned loudly, grinding down against her, and she grinned through the sharp wave of arousal it sent through her. She slipped a hand around to the back of his pants, pressing her fingers there just briefly, and he let his head fall to her shoulder.

“ _Jack_ ,” he said quietly, pleadingly, and someday she was going to take advantage of how prettily he begged, but right now she wanted to see the way his body reacted as he came, hear him making broken noises above her, so she undid his pants and pushed them away enough to get his cock out, sliding a thumb over the head of it, already slick and sensitive, and then wrapped her hand around him, jerking him steadily without any teasing.

He leaned back, his fingers going tight against her shoulders as his hips thrust into her hand, and watching him was like the best kind of porn, the kind where she could change her grip around him and make his eyes flutter shut, his teeth sink into his lip. He didn’t last long, his thrusts going unsteady, looking down to meet her eyes and gasping out, “Jack, I’m – ”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, not knowing if it was a warning or a request for permission, but wanting it either way, wanting so badly to watch as his hips stuttered into her hand, his head dropping forward, a ragged sound escaping through his lips as he spilled over her fingers.

“Oh,” he breathed out afterward, folding down to press a messy kiss to her lips. "I probably should have guessed you’d be good with your hands.“

She grinned and closed them around his hips, holding him steady against her as he panted for breath and reached down to do up his pants. "Probably,” she said a little smugly, and he laughed. He squirmed out of her grip, sliding down between her legs onto the floor, and she let them fall open for him as he slid his hands up her thighs. He undid her pants and paused there, his fingers tucked inside her waistband, brushing the sensitive skin of her hips and making her shiver with how badly she wanted him, and he met her eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked carefully, and something about that moment of hesitation , even after he’d just gotten off spectacularly on her lap, made a rush of fondness go through her. She reached out to curl her fingers into the edge of his hair, and his tongue darted out over his lower lip, his eyes dropping back down to where his fingers were.

“Fuck, Gavin, yeah,” she said in a rush, and helped him slide her pants off and kick them aside. He leaned in then, all hesitation gone, and touched her slowly at first, waiting until she was twisting her hips up off the couch toward him before he leaned in to use his mouth as well. She reached for his hair again and felt him moan as she tangled her fingers into it, and she didn’t quite come just from the feeling of him going slack under her hand, but the combination of his easy acceptance of her direction and the heat and pressure of his mouth and fingers was enough to send her right over the edge.

He pulled back, coughing a little, and she smoothed her hand lightly down the back of his head soothingly, but he was smiling when he looked back up at her, soft and delighted, and she couldn’t help but return it.

She stood and stretched, pulling her pants back on and offering him a hand up from his knees, and he way he leaned all his weight into her grip and let her haul him up was strange and gratifying, the kind of trust he showed easily to Geoff, and occasionally to Michael, but not usually to her. They straightened up, and Jack grabbed Gavin’s discarded earpiece, tucking it into her bag with the money. She wanted nothing more than to stretch out on the couch in a post-orgasm haze, pulling Gavin down to stretch out on top of her, but across town there was the promise of beds and drinks and their team, so instead she pressed a hand to his back as she ushered him out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.

That night, she came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her to find Gavin and Geoff curled up together in bed, talking quietly, and when Geoff’s eyes met hers, dark and turned on, she knew exactly what they’d been talking about. He extracted himself from Gavin and crossed the room to kiss her lightly, his hands tracing her body familiarly through the towel, and when he leaned in towards her ear, she could see Gavin watching them with interest from the bed.

“Gav said you had a suggestion,” he said in a low voice, and she shivered at the thought, of taking Gavin like that, spread out over her, of him _telling_ Geoff about it like by saying it aloud he could make it real. "Show me?“ Geoff requested, and when Gavin’s eyes met hers, they were wide and wanting. She curled her fingers around Geoff’s waist, holding him against her, feeling the gravity of the moment, the potential, part of her wanting to keep them like this for as long as she could, both of them waiting for her word. But Geoff’s breath was warm against her neck, and Gavin was squirming against the bed like he was desperate to be touched, and she found she couldn’t wait any more than they could, so she nodded, letting her eyes travel over Gavin’s body, her fingers tighten against Geoff’s skin.

"Yeah,” she said quietly. "Yeah, we could do that.“


	36. untitled - safeword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gavin, mention of Jack/Geoff, Geoff/Michael, Geoff/Jack/Michael, Geoff/Griffon, Geoff/Gavin - NSFW

Jack watches Geoff with Michael, sees the way Michael goes quiet and willing under his hands, and it's something they never had, something they never did, a dynamic that works for Geoff with Michael (and had worked for him with Griffon in the other direction in the past), but that never really came up between the two of them, never really worked in a relationship based on them being on even footing most of the time, even in bed. Things are intense between them, sometimes soft and slow and deep, other times sharp and hard, desperate, but it’s never play for them in the way it is with Michael, never this understood scenario where one of them calls the shots and the other follows willingly. She watches them, sometimes joins in (because Michael is so beautiful like that, his soft lips and bright eyes and the way he lets himself go so easily at Geoff’s word), but it’s never something she really wants, not for her and Geoff, and not for herself. 

At least, she never thinks it is, until Gavin. He fits himself into their crew so perfectly, so effortlessly, and it’s everything she never quite admitted to fearing – Gavin returning to take his place again at Geoff’s side, pushing her away – except that the second part never happens. It’s the three of them and Michael, and sometimes Ray and Ryan, taking on jobs like nothing had been complete until it was all of them, and she finds herself watching Gavin, the way his eyes flutter closed as Geoff ruffles his hand affectionately into his hair, the way he and Michael end up pressed together in the back of the van, Gavin’s legs slung across Michael’s lap. She keeps waiting, expecting it to come to its logical conclusion, for her to return to the bedroom some night to find the three of them tangled up in bed together, but that moment never comes. instead, she finds Gavin, finds him waiting for her with a matched set of cars to race in the middle of the night, finds him on the roof setting off fireworks as the sun rises, finds him everywhere, in everything, until she can’t remember when he wasn’t there in every corner of their lives. 

From there, the kisses come too easy, their hands against each other’s skin, and for the first time, she starts to realize what it is that draws Geoff to Michael, the intoxicating feeling of someone yielding to her touch, so desperate to please her, and she finds herself wanting to take him up on it, to make him give her exactly what she wants, to turn him into a whimpering mess under her, panting and gasping against the bed. It happens, eventually, on a ragged couch in an abandoned apartment, and it's good, so good, and then even better when they go home to Geoff, pull him in with them, but it's not quite what she was imagining, not the easy yielding she thinks he's capable of, that she glimpses in his brief moments with Geoff alone, or with Ryan.

Instead, they’re in her car when it happens, finally, when her fingers are tight against his skin, her teeth grazing lightly at his neck, not nearly enough, and he leans in and says a nonsensical word against her ear. She starts laughing, pulling back, gasping for breath, saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Gavin." 

He meets her eyes and says, "That was my word. With Geoff. If I wanted him to stop." 

She looks at him intently. "Yeah?” she asks, and he leans up to kiss her almost chastely. 

“Jack,” he says against her lips, “yes. Please.”

She drags him back in for a kiss, her fingers rough in his hair, and his only response is to moan quietly and kiss her back. “Oh,” she says as he pulls away, “this is going to be fun.”


	37. untitled - makeup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan

“Oh.” Ryan’s voice is quiet in the doorway, and Jack looks up at him, still tracing the lipstick across her lower lip.

“It’s okay,” she says, smacking her lips at him and tucking the lipstick away. "I’m done.“ She gestures at the mirror. "Your turn.”

He gives her a half smile, and she doesn’t leave as he steps into the bathroom and starts to unpack his little bag of paints. Instead, she sits on the toilet, watching him messily smear on the base layers, then carefully start tracing out the details.

“Does it mean anything?” she asks finally, watching the outline of the paint take shape across his face, and he shrugs, looking at her. 

“Does yours?”

She laughs and makes a kissy face at him in the air. “Just that I like to look pretty while I’m kicking people’s asses.”

He smiles back and shrugs. "Yeah, well. Same.“

He doesn’t kiss her when he’s done, both of them impeccably made up and not wanting to smudge each other’s hard work, but he reaches to brush her hair behind her ear, trace a thumb over the lower edge of her lip, like he wants to see her, admire her without anything in the way. 

"You’d do that anyway, you know,” he says as he pulls away to pack up this things, and she blinks at him.

“What?”

He shrugs. "Look pretty.“

She rolls her eyes and kicks him lightly. "You’re biased.”

“Maybe,” he admits. "Doesn’t make me wrong.“

It’s later that they kiss, after the job, in an alley with his hand warm and possessive against her jaw, most of his paint long since rubbed off into his mask, or onto the collar of his jacket. When he pulls away, she catches her reflection in a window, smudged and faintly bloodstained, messy and disheveled, and Ryan leans against her back, wrapping an arm around her from behind. "See?” he whispers against her ear before leaning in to press a hot kiss to her neck.


	38. untitled - beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Gavin, implied Jack/Geoff and Jack/Michael

They drive out to the beach at sunset with a trunk full of beer and fireworks, because it’s been the longest fucking day in existence, and Gavin turned to Jack when it was over, tired and sweaty and rumpled, his sunglasses pushed up forgotten over his hair, and said, “Let’s blow stuff up, yeah?" 

Ryan and Geoff are there when they arrive, Ryan’s motorcycle parked near the beginnings of a campfire, Geoff tossing bits of pallet on while Ryan lies on his back, shooting flares into the sky. Jack’s already halfway into her first beer by the time Michael and Ray roll up, and Michael collapses next to her, dropping his head into her lap, her fingers curling into his hair as he smiles up at her. Gavin and Geoff build the fire up until it’s outrageous, a beacon, and on another night Jack might try to suggest they tone it down – no sense having the cops show up for something so dumb – but tonight she smiles and closes her eyes, feeling the warmth on her face as she listens to Michael and Geoff daring each other to do increasingly stupid stunts on Ryan’s bike, and Ryan and Ray talking quietly beside the fire, Ray occasionally letting out a sharp laugh at some comment of Ryan’s. 

“Come swimming with me,” Gavin says, standing over her and offering her a hand up, and she takes it, shedding her skirt and her shirt as she chases after him into the water, and laughing at Geoff’s appreciative whistle behind her. 

They race, they wrestle in the waves, and when they finally make their way back to the shore and collapse, Gavin sprawls out next to her, leaning up on an arm to kiss her lazily. It’s warm and comfortable, and she loses herself entirely in the feeling of him against her, the sound of their guys around them. When she finally pulls back and opens her eyes at a sound above them, it’s to the sight of fireworks bursting in the sky behind his head.


	39. a late night phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Michael, mention of Michael/Gavin, implied Geoff/Gavin/Michael - NSFW

Geoff caught the phone as it was about to vibrate off his bedside table, glancing at the screen and answering without lifting his head from the pillow. "Michael?"

"Boss." His voice was rough and tired, and there was a part of Geoff that ached with how badly he wanted him here, so he could wrestle him into the bed and wrap around him while he slept for a week. Instead, he closed his eyes again and breathed out a low sigh of relief at just the sound of his voice.

"Hey, buddy," he said, sleep making him let a little too much of the concern he'd been holding into his voice. "It's over, then?"

"It's over," Michael confirmed. "And before you ask, Gav's fine. Burnie's fine. Strike team's getting disbanded, operation accomplished."

"Thank fuck," Geoff muttered into his pillow, muffling the words. "I mean, you know. We haven't missed you two shitheads at all. Ryan and I have basically reorganized the city, so Burnie can just keep you two for his…what the fuck is he calling it? Lazer team?"

Michael breathed out a laugh. "Yeah. I think – " Geoff could hear him shifting slightly, and imagined him stretched out in some hotel bed in San Andreas, Gavin curled up asleep next to him. "I think we're ready to come home, though."

"I _guess_ ," Geoff said. He flopped onto his back, letting his other arm fall over his eyes, blocking out the faint light trickling in his window from the city outside. "If you really feel like it." He sprawled out, alone in the bed, Jack probably tucked in with Ryan down the hall, and he tried not to think about how quiet the apartment had been since Michael and Gavin had left – how welcome it had been for the first few days, and how strange and unsettling it had become since then.

"Nah, you missed us," Michael said confidently. "Well." Geoff could practically hear the way he looked over at Gavin with mock dismissiveness. "Me, at least."

"Missed your dick," Geoff said. "That's about it, though."

Michael laughed. "Well, you can say hi to it tomorrow," he said.

"Oh, I will," Geoff agreed vaguely, already imagining stretching Michael out on the bed, working him over until he was pleading brokenly, weeks of worry and distance building up into desperation between them, and he heard the faint hitch of Michael's breath that let him know he was picturing the same thing. "Sounds like you might be doing that for me right now, actually," he said, and Michael let out a shaky laugh.

"'m not," he said. "It's just…it's been a long few weeks, man."

Geoff could picture him easily, squirming a little against the bed, keeping his hands to himself but _wanting_ it so badly. He'd gotten him like that enough times to know exactly how it looked, the way that his face went serious with concentration, a flush spreading down his neck from his face, his fingers tight against the sheets or the headboard like he didn't trust himself. "Michael," he said steadily, commandingly, and Michael let out a low groan. 

" _Fuck_ , Geoff," he replied. The shuddering breath he let out as the words trailed off was enough to let Geoff know he'd wrapped a hand around himself, and Geoff smiled up at the ceiling, stroking himself lightly through his pants, listening as Michael got more and more wound up.

"Shit, you really need this, don't you?" he asked conversationally, and Michael made a protesting noise like he was trying to think up a good objection, but Geoff just continued. "You're going to be a fucking wreck when I actually get my hands on you. How long has it been since you even – did you and Gavin…?"

"No," Michael gasped out. "There was so much going on…" His words trailed off, and Geoff wanted more than anything in the world to be able to see it, to watch Michael's hips twisting as he fucked into his hand, the way his teeth bit into his lip to keep himself quiet. "I want – " 

" _Yeah_ ," Geoff agreed, not even caring what it was that Michael wanted. "Absolutely, anything – " and he didn't even finish getting the words out before Michael's breaths were coming out ragged and fast, a twisted sound escaping him as he came. 

Geoff stroked himself slower, teasing, listening to Michael go quiet as he calmed down, and he came with a low quiet groan to the thought of Michael curled up in bed all post-orgasm lazy, of kissing him slowly like that, maybe trying to get him ramped up again, touching him lightly all over his over-sensitized skin.

"You're so full of shit," Michael said eventually. "You missed the hell out of me." 

"Yeah, well." Geoff was too tired to keep the honesty from escaping. "You spend a month waiting to see if the next call you get is from Gus or Barbara, telling you that two of us aren't coming home. Then we'll talk."

Michael was silent for a long moment. "Fuck, man," he said finally, his voice small and quiet. "Don't – we're _fine_."

"I know," Geoff said. There was a part of him that suddenly wished he'd been able to hear Gavin's voice, too, but he trusted Michael, knew that if anything had happened to Gavin, he'd off taking down every last person who had anything to do with it rather than curled up in a hotel room bed on the phone with him. "I know. Just get your asses back here, would you?"

"ASAP, boss," Michael agreed, and a few minutes after he hung up, Geoff's phone buzzed with another message.

It was a picture, a selfie of Michael curled up around Gavin, both of them looking relaxed and safe in the bed, Michael's cheeks still flushed, and the text beneath it just said, _tomorrow_.

Geoff closed his eyes and fell back asleep, but he kept his phone clutched in his fingers, just in case.


	40. you remind me of someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crew gen, implied Geoff/Jack/Ryan

"Hey, boss, looking good," Michael said.

"Damn right I am," Geoff replied, crossing to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Gavin was sitting behind it, spinning idly on one of the stools, and he put a hand out to steady himself and look Geoff over. He blushed faintly.

"You look - " he began, taking in Geoff's perfectly-cut suit, his tattoos standing out sharply against it, and swallowed.

"Hot as dicks?" Geoff prompted.

"All right, I guess," Gavin said, deceptively casual, and Geoff reached out to ruffle his hair.

"You'd hit it," he said easily, and neatly poured a line of drinks for them, crossing the room to hand Jack's to her. She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her own suit jacket, and reached to straighten Geoff's tie.

"Man, one of these days, _we're_ going to get the chance to dress up like that for a job," Michael said to Gavin as Gavin perched on to the arm of his armchair and leaned heavily against him, handing him a drink. "And we're gonna look fucking sweet."

"It's not a job," Jack pointed out. "It's a gala."

"Same fucking thing, though, right? Go put on your business face around a bunch of people who are ready to kill you if you make the wrong move?"

"Do you even have a business face?" Gavin asked him, leaning in to poke him on the cheek, and Michael slapped his hand away.

"No one gets killed at this party," Geoff said. "You make a name for yourself in this town, and maybe you'll go next year."

Michael gave him a withering look. "We've _been_ making names for ourselves," he pointed out. "You're just the one getting all the credit."

Geoff shrugged. "Credit, targets slapped on my back. Same thing."

Jack laid a hand against his side as she scrutinized the lads. "I can't really picture either of you in a tie," she said.

"Unlike some of us," Ray said, "who don't need an excuse to look baller."

"No interest in going to the ball, Cinderella?" Jack asked, and Ray shrugged.

"Not really my scene. I'll stay here with my moron stepsisters." He had his legs kicked up on the coffee table, a controller in his hand, peering around Michael to see the screen, and looked completely in his element. "I mean, unless you're looking for a guy in the sky - "

"Not tonight," Geoff interrupted. "The security on this shindig is unbelievable. I don't want you getting tangled up in anything. Jack and I have it covered."

"Try to steal us something from the kitchen, would you?" Michael requested.

"Or the bar," Gavin added.

"Yeah, that'll be our top priority," Jack replied dryly.

"Night, boys," Geoff said cheerfully, turning for the door. "Don't throw any wild parties."

"But what about a - " Ray turned to point at Michael with exaggerated enthusiasm, "Mario Party?!"

"Yeah, boy," Michael replied, grinning, and Geoff rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

"Never," Jack said quietly. "We are _never_ taking them to this thing."

"Oh, fuck no," Geoff replied.

The party was a Los Santos institution, a night of networking and quiet deals made over too many drinks, and Geoff and Jack circulated like pros, making their way from one group of allies and subcontractors to another. It was late in the night when they took a break from the gladhanding to settle into a corner by the bar with Griffon and shoot the shit for a while, making each other curl up laughing in between discussing some of the merchandise due to come in and out of the Fort in the coming months, and Geoff left her and Jack there to talk for a few minutes while he crossed to the bar, ordering another round.

"Having fun?" the question was quiet, but full of dry humor, and when Geoff slid his eyes over to the man leaning next to him, blue eyes met his in a familiar almost-smile.

"The _fuck_?" he asked under his breath, and Ryan breathed out a low laugh.

"You didn't think you were the only person who needed to keep up appearances in this town, did you?"

"Ryan - " Geoff began, but Ryan looked at him blankly and impassively.

"I'm sorry," he said carefully, "but you must have me confused with someone else." He turned to the bartender as she approached and leaned in, oddly charming. "Just a Coke, please." He waited until she had walked a few paces off before leaning in towards Geoff. "That's the name of someone who's not here tonight."

"Right," Geoff said, nodding, and accepted his drinks when the bartender returned, tipping generously. He looked Ryan over, taking in the way his suit fit him impeccably, the serious expression on his face offset by the way he was just barely holding back a smile at fucking with Geoff. "In that case, who might you be? I make it a point to know the people in my town."

Ryan raised his eyebrows enigmatically. "You've got friends," he said, waving a hand at the room. "Surely one of them can help you with that." He picked up his Coke, and as he brushed by Geoff, he leaned in to say low beside his ear, "You look good, boss."

Geoff watched him make his way back into the well-dressed crowd, and tried very hard not to imagine what it would be like to get him out of that suit at the end of the night. Instead, he crossed back to Jack and Griffon and gave them their drinks, Jack's eyes meeting his significantly.

"So, that was a surprise," he said to her dryly, and she laughed.

"Was it though?" she asked. "Really?"

Geoff shook his head, grinning. "Who even knows, with that asshole?" He nodded back towards the party, and Jack immediately slid from her seat. "Sorry, Griffon," Geoff said. "We've got some sleuthing to do."

She waved them off. "Have fun," she said. "Don't come back and tell me I have to put Haywood on my shit list, though, okay? He's good business."

"Haywood?" Geoff's eyes found Ryan again, and he raised his eyebrows. "You know that guy?"

"Sure, James Haywood, tech guy. Used to do some work with Lindsay back in the day, before she joined up with your crew. He hasn't been around much lately, but every once in a while he'll come to the Fort looking for all kinds of obscure stuff. The best kind of customer to have, really. Unpredictable and well-funded."

"You're amazing, you know that?" Geoff asked, leaning in to press a kiss to Griffon's cheek, and she waved him off, laughing.

"Oh, I know," she said. "Now get out of here, would you? I've got people to schmooze, and that goes better without reminding them that I'm the former almost-Mrs. Ramsey."

Geoff grinned at her. "That intimidating, am I?"

"No, it just says nothing good for my taste."

Geoff pressed a hand to Jack's back as they made their way back into the crowd. He could see Ryan watching them, and nodded at him slowly, significantly. Ryan tilted his glass in Geoff's direction without pausing in the conversation he was having, and Jack looked over her shoulder at Geoff. "He kind of tossed us a softball, there, didn't he, boss? I mean, we were sitting right there with Griffon..."

Geoff shook his head. "I think he meant to," he said. "I thought he was giving me a challenge, but I think maybe..." he hesitated. "The thing is, he could have avoided us all night, easily. He's good, and he knows we weren't bringing any outside eyes. That wasn't a softball. He just fucking _handed_ it to us."

Jack stopped and turned to him, frowning. "You think he wants us to know who he is?"

"I think we already know who he is," Geoff said. "I think he wants us to know this is another mask he can put on, if he has to."

Together, they watched Ryan gesturing with his glass, holding a group of people enthralled with some story he was telling, looking simultaneously more put-together and more casual than they'd ever seen him. He wasn't looking at them, but Geoff knew he knew they were watching, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was playing the Mad King or getting played, or if both of them had dropped the pieces and stopped the game a long time ago.

"Come on. I think we've gotten enough business done for one night." Geoff turned for the door, but Jack hesitated, still watching Ryan. "We'll see him at home," Geoff pointed out.

"Yeah, but will he still be looking like _that_?" Jack asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Geoff laughed. "You have a point." He admired the view for a few more moments, not looking away until Ryan met his eyes.

They made their way through the party and towards the door, Geoff's hand lingering against Jack's waist, already thinking about taking her home and getting her out of her fancy clothes. On their way, though, they paused at the bar and took advantage of Griffon flirting with the bartender to swipe a bottle for the lads.


	41. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Jack/Ryan

“So is anyone even listening to me, or am I just talking to myself here?” Geoff demanded, glaring in the general direction of Ryan, who was leaning against the wall beside Jack, whispering something to her behind his mask that had her stifling a giggle.

“We’re good, boss,” Jack assured him, and broke away from Ryan to cross by him, pressing a long slow kiss against Geoff’s mouth as she passed.

“The fuck was that for?” he asked, and she shrugged, tossing a “Ryan,” over her shoulder as she walked away.


	42. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan/Michael

“So, are you gonna drink that or…?” Michael prompts, waving a hand at Ryan’s beer.

Ryan looks down at it and doesn’t quite sigh, but he gives a faint grimace as he lifts it to his lips. His face is the picture of distaste as he sets it back down, and Michael laughs at him, nudging their legs together in the closeness of the bar.

“Sending the guy who doesn’t drink into this one was fucking inspired,” he mutters under his breath. Ryan doesn’t answer except for a small lift of his eyebrow, but Michael can read it clearly, the slightly reproachful _yeah, well, if any of you would take the time to learn anything about hacking security systems from me, we wouldn’t be in this predicament, would we?_ “Oh, shut it, you,” Michael says.

“Didn’t say anything,” Ryan says. His voice drops low and quiet, his eyes flickering over Michael’s shoulder. “We’ve got eyes.” 

Michael stiffens a little, and Ryan drops a hand easily to his shoulder, squeezing, expression light and flirty. "How many?“

“Just two guys, in the corner. C'mere.” He looks naked without the mask or the facepaint, his face startlingly expressive, and as he drops his head low beside Michael’s ear, there’s nothing of subterfuge there, nothing to indicate he’s playing a part, just raw interest as he leans in to press a light kiss to Michael’s neck, murmuring, “They’re cutting the power soon, just…”

“Yeah,” Michael gasps. "Mmhm. No, I’m with you.“ He reaches up to slide a hand into Ryan’s hair. "I mean, we could have a conversation like normal people.”

Ryan makes a wordless noise, moving toward his mouth. “Sure,” he says quietly against his skin. "But where’s the fun in that?“ He catches Michael’s lips and lets out a low laugh.

"What?” Michael asks when he pulls back from the kiss.

Ryan’s voice is barely audible as he replies, “You taste like beer.” He leans in again, eyes not quite flickering to the guys behind them, but Michael knows they’re right there on his radar, on the edge of his perception, and he lets himself close his eyes as Ryan kisses him again, trusting him to be aware of what’s behind him.

There’s a collective noise from around them as the bar plunges into darkness, and Michael murmurs, “Showtime,” against Ryan’s lips before he pulls away. As Ryan slides off his seat, Michael grabs the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him in to say low against his ear, “And then? More of that.”


	43. untitled - take it off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geoff/Ryan - NSFW

There’s an undercurrent to Geoff’s silence as they speed home, a low growl in his voice as he stands at the foot of Ryan’s bed. "Take it off.“

Ryan stretches, smirks, and kicks off his shoes instead, sprawling out.

“You heard me,” Geoff repeats. "Take. It. Off.“

"Why?” Ryan prods, not reaching for the mask.

Geoff looks down at him steadily. "Because I’m gonna use your fucking mouth, Ryan,“ he says.

” _Oh_.“ His breath catches at the thought, and he shivers just from the touch of his own fingers against his neck as he reaches to rip the mask off.


	44. six impossible things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAHC OT6 - NSFW

"Sure," Michael said, stretching out on his stomach the gritty surface of the roof, watching the sky turn pink as the sun rose. "I mean, it works, there's no denying that. But it _shouldn't_ , is what I'm saying."

Geoff shrugged and let a warm hand fall against the space between Michael's shoulderblades. "Fuck _should_ ," he said.  
_______________

In a universe that made sense, Geoff would have turned Michael away when he came back. He would have laughed in his face and walked away, taking Jack and Ryan and building their empire the way they'd started, without some brash kid with a filthy mouth and a way with explosives jumping in to shake everything up. He would have taken Michael's initial refusal at face value, and not as the ass-saving maneuver that it was, and he'd have sent him packing, back to Liberty City and the mob on his tail, with only Ray to cover his ass.

He hadn't.

Instead there had been the brief ruffle of Geoff's fingers in his hair, the warning not to fuck everything up, the assurance that here in Los Santos, he'd have people at his back if and when the shit went down.

In a universe that made sense, he wouldn't know the taste of Geoff's mouth against his when they'd finished off a bottle of whiskey between them, the feeling of his hands easy and capable around Michael's waist, pressing him back against the wall and holding him there steadily as he sucked him off, the way the tattoos on his fingers looked as they tangled into the sheets while Michael fucked him, slow and teasing, dragging half-formed curses from his lips.

_______________

He'd had this version of Jack built up in his head before he crossed the country for good, this rough and badass lady who took no one's shit and would fight you as soon as look at you. He hadn't gotten much time with her, the first time in Los Santos – mostly interacting with her over the comm, or in brief moments as she piloted his ass across the city – and there was an image he had of the person someone would have to be in order to land a gig as Geoff's right hand woman.

She was all those things, he found in time, but she was also the person who would tuck her gun away to pause on a street corner and pet a dog, who would show up to a heist at Christmas time with an elf hat on, just to make Ryan stare at her like she'd lost her mind, who could quiet one of Geoff's rages with a well-placed hand and a comment muttered under her breath that would make his anger dissolve into a startled laugh.

They were never quite friends, not the way she was friends with Geoff and Ryan, or the way he was with Ray and Gavin, but shortly after he bought the AH Mobile, he went down to the garage one night to find her with the hood open, inspecting it, and within minutes, he was there beside her with his sleeves rolled up, handing each other tools and getting gradually more covered in grease.

The first time he and Geoff stumbled into Geoff's room with their hands all over each other to find Jack there, she'd laughed at them and taken her book into the living room. The second time, she'd watched. The third time, she'd kept her hands only on Geoff, and Michael had gotten off to Geoff moaning around his cock while Jack jerked him off. The fourth time, her eyes had gone wide when Michael dropped to his knees in front of her at Geoff's urging, but then she was giving him a slow wicked smile, and her fingers were curling into his hair.  
________________

Ryan was the slow burn, the complicated one, and it reached a point where he was an inevitability, where the jokes and the innuendos had turned into something with intention, something that made Michael's skin heat up when he'd do nothing more than lock eyes with Ryan across a room, even through the mask. They kept it there for a long time – for too long, even, until there was the heat of anger and frustration in the way they'd snap at each other, until Geoff was dropping his head into his hands and groaning, "Jesus Christ, just _fuck_ already!" at them.

Michael had thought it would be rough, with Ryan, that first time, an explosion starting from a moment of fear or desperation. Instead, it happened on a night when the power went out, when Gavin was in England, and Ray was in New York, and Geoff and Jack had been asleep for hours and hours, and Michael was pacing the apartment, trying to keep himself warm by moving. Ryan's door was open just a crack, a flashlight on, and Michael could see him silhouetted there against his pillows each time he paced by.

"Just, fucking – get in here, would you?" Ryan finally called, and Michael hovered in the doorway until Ryan sighed and set his book aside, holding open the blankets.

It wasn't quite cuddling, exactly, but Ryan was warm against him, his arms hesitating only briefly before curling around Michael, steady and solid, and by the time Michael started rocking his hips back against him deliberately, Ryan's breath was already starting to go unsteady against his neck. They fucked slowly and quietly, almost lazily, all warm teasing hands and kisses so deep that neither of them could catch their breath afterwards, and they fell asleep like that, wrapped together under the sheets with Ryan's arm still tucked almost protectively around him.  
_______________

He wanted so badly to hate Gavin.

Every story he'd heard about him, everything about the way that Geoff and Burnie had built him up, just made him want to despise the guy, to blank him until he decided to pack his things and go back to England. He showed up in the middle of an afternoon, unexpected, and the way Geoff flung his controller in the air and launched himself across the room to wrap himself around Gavin when Jack opened the door should have been annoying. It should have set Michael's teeth on edge just like every one of those stories had, but instead Gavin let out this startled little squawk, letting his bags drop from his hands onto the floor, and he looked at Michael helplessly over Geoff's shoulder for a moment before laughing and hugging Geoff back. There was something about that moment of hesitation, his honest disbelief at Geoff's reaction to seeing him, the way his eyes went wide under his obnoxiously tousled hair, that Michael couldn't help but find unreasonably endearing.

Gavin went almost seamlessly from _that asshole_ to _my boy_ , and there was nothing complicated about it, nothing even a little disconcerting about the way he rolled with Michael's (completely reasonable) rage at him when he'd botch a mission. They were a unit, instantly and unquestionably, and later – much later – when it turned from being just the two of them getting bevved up and sneaking into people's pools, or hotwiring cars in the middle of the night and leaving them perched precariously on cliff faces to them doing those things but also fucking, it was just as smooth, a barely noticeable change.

He'd still wake in the night to find Gavin pressing against him, all angles and squirming, but now his hand would slip into Michael's pants before they fell asleep there, pressed together with Michael periodically shoving at Gavin to _give me more than like a foot of bed, you asshole_ , or _maybe use your own goddamn pillow for a change_.  
________________

Ray was the last one to join the crew, but he was Michael's first, in a lot of ways. He had been the first one to introduce Michael to the idea of a team as something more than an obligation, something other than a group you signed onto because you had to. People who had your back despite which way the money might be flowing. He was with Michael the first time he killed, the first time he went out looking for a fight he knew he couldn't win, and he was the one who got Michael out of the state, that night that Michael had thrown everything away and fled without looking back.

He hadn't been Michael's first kiss, or his first handjob, but he'd been the first time that Michael had gotten someone else off, watching him get quieter and more tense until he came, breathing out a slow ragged sigh and grabbing Michael's wrist, all of the tension draining from him at once.

It was casual and occasional, and when he showed up in Los Santos, it was so far in their past that Michael figured they were over it, that they'd both moved on – Ray to Ryan, mostly, and the way they'd fuck the tension out after a job, and Michael to...the complicated mess he was making of things with the others – but then came the job where Ray got carjacked, and suddenly it wasn't in the past anymore, it was right there, Ray looking back at him through a security camera, Michael's chest going tight with the thought of anything happening to him.

Nothing did, because they fucking demolished that place, tore it to the ground and utterly destroyed the crew inside, but Michael was the one to go in after Ray, Jack at his back, and when he sliced the ropes from Ray's wrists and let his fingers curl around them before he helped him to his feet, they both knew that nothing was over, that there were more firsts to come.  
_______________

The sun was up by the time they made it back inside, shining almost painfully through the blinds as Geoff let his hand rest against the small of Michael's back, guiding him down the hallway, and Michael paused to take in Ray and Gavin, sprawled out on the couch with Gavin's head in Ray's lap, Ray's hand still curled around his controller where it rested against Gavin's chest. Ryan's door was open, and Michael could see the bright splash of Jack's hair fanned out across one of the pillows as they passed. "It just," he said quietly, letting Geoff tip him into bed and collapse practically on top of him. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Mm, I know," Geoff mumbled in reply. He pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to Michael's neck. "Isn't it fucking great?"

Michael laughed, tracing his fingers over the tattoos on Geoff's arm by memory, his eyes already closed, mind drifting. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It kind of is."


	45. untitled - future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack & Lindsay - following Ray's departure

“You,” Jack announced, clapping her hands to Lindsay’s shoulders and steering her towards the door of the nearest bar, “need a drink.”

“I need like eight,” Lindsay replied, turning easily to follow the direction of Jack’s hands. She expected the others to show at some point, but by the time they were most of the way into their second round with a plate of fries lying demolished between them, she started to realize that they had probably made other plans.

“Maybe,” she said, inspecting the remaining beer in her glass, “I should see if Griffon’s hiring.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow and Lindsay shrugged. "I mean, Meg fucked off to San Andreas with Ashley and Burnie, right?” she continued. “Maybe the Fort could use someone with my capabilities.“

” _Lindsay_ ,“ Jack said, sounding fondly exasperated, and Lindsay looked up at her.

” _What_?“ she demanded. "I mean, it’s great for you guys to all pretend everything’s going just fine in my little corner of the operation, but it’s been months since Kdin got out of town, and you _know_ Matt and Jeremy are going to come back any day now saying that Joel and Adam want them full time, and it’s great, it’s _fine_ , except for how some of us didn’t really pack a fucking parachute, here.” She sighed, blowing her hair out of her face. "Some of us were kind of in this one for the long haul, you know?“

"I know,” Jack said quietly, and something about the way she said the words was so deeply earnest that Lindsay had to look up at her, meet her eyes.

She laughed to herself, shaking her head. "Of course you do,“ she said, trying for a tone that was a little less bitter. "It’s different for you guys, though. I mean, Ray left, but you still had – ” she waved a hand, meaning each other but not wanting to say it, and gulped down the last of her beer. "You know, _anything_.“ She set the empty glass down on the table and gave Jack a hard look over it. "So what is this? You here to let me down easy? Don’t bother.”

“Jesus, Lindsay,” Jack said, and gestured at the bar for another round. "We know your team’s fracturing on you, you think that’s news? Give me a break. This is how things work, right? Opportunities happen, people show up, people leave. You guys did good work on your side of town for a long time, we’re not discounting that. I’m not here to fucking fire you.“ Lindsay gave her a level look until she continued. "I’m just saying, if you’re looking for a team, we happen to have a vacancy on ours.”

Lindsay gave her a blank look. "For a sniper,“ she pointed out. "That's…not my style.”

“No,” Jack corrected, “we _had_ a sniper. That doesn’t mean we’re looking for another one. We’re looking for…” she paused as the waitress delivered their beers, and continued as she walked away. "We’re actually not looking for _anything_. We’re not hiring, here, this isn’t about replacing anyone.” There was a hardness to her expression as she said it, like there was a fight the words that had nothing to do with Lindsay. “It’s about wanting _you_. Not someone to do a job. Someone who’s already part of our crew in everything but name.“

Lindsay stared at her. "You’re serious right now.”

“I’m saying,” Jack said, “Matt and Jeremy come back to you wanting to stick with HT? Maybe you let them. Maybe we see what happens from there.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lindsay breathed out. She considered for a moment, and grinned as she reached for her beer. "Would this mean I get to plan my own jobs? Because I came up with this amazing idea a while back, involving port-a-potties and a train…" she grabbed Jack’s napkin and started scribbling on it, and Jack leaned in to listen, tossing out her own suggestions as Lindsay laid out her plan.


	46. untitled - kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Ryan, mention of Geoff/Gavin

Ryan’s standing with his back to her when she reaches the top of the ladder, mask long since abandoned, hair falling out of its tie. She steps up behind him, and he doesn’t quite turn to look at her, instead just leaning back slightly as she hooks her chin over his shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist.

“Hey,” she says quietly. 

Across from them, Geoff and Gavin are halfway through some story that gets more elaborate every time they tell it, Michael egging them on while Lindsay listens, looking half skeptical and half enthralled. Geoff’s pacing, gesturing with his hands as he talks, his voice fading in and out with the wind so Jack can only catch pieces of what he’s saying, but it’s a story she’s heard before – one that was probably only half true to begin with, and the percentage has definitely gone down over the years – so she focuses on Ryan instead, on the smudge of paint still trapped along his hairline, the way he lets himself tip back against her like he’s ready to fall asleep on his feet.

“Enjoying story time?” she asks, and he lets out a noncommittal noise.

Geoff’s laughter echoes louder than his words at something Gavin says, and he reaches to fling an arm across Gavin’s shoulders, dragging him in and pressing his face to the mess of Gavin’s hair in something that’s not quite a kiss.

Ryan breathes out a quiet laugh, and Jack tilts her head to look at him. "What?“ she asks. 

He shrugs. ”’s cute,“ he replies. There’s a quiet, fond smile tugging at his lips, an expression so distant from any of the impressions she’d had of him in the early days that she has to laugh, straightening up and giving him a light push to get him standing under his own power again. "What?” he demands, giving her the same smile with just a slight edge of defensiveness to his voice.

“ _You’re_ cute,” she replies, and he makes a face at her, ruining it by yawning hugely. 

She circles around him, placing her hands on his shoulders and nudging him lightly back toward the ladder. He’s stubborn for a moment, feet planted against the ground, so she leans in to press a light kiss to his forehead, reaching to brush his hair back with her fingers. 

“C'mon,” she says quietly against his skin. “Bed.”

He lets out a low humming noise of approval and lets his eyes drift closed, leaning into her touch. It’s more deliberate than the way Geoff was with Gavin, her lips lingering there, feeling him calm and tired under her hands. "Could just sleep here,“ he says quietly.

Jack smiles and pulls away. "If anyone on this crew can sleep on their feet, I have no doubt it’s you,” she allows. "That’s gotta be hell on your back, though.“

“Oh, it is,” Ryan replies with the voice of one who knows. His eyes blink open slowly, and she wants to pull back, to let her hand drop from where it’s curling into the strand of hair that’s fallen out of its tie and back away, luring him off the roof and downstairs to bed, but it’s such a rare moment of unguarded Ryan, his soft smile and sleepy eyes, that all she can do is smile helplessly at him, and lean in to kiss him again.


End file.
